The Demon Faced
by Peacharwen77
Summary: Two months following the events of "The Lost Found," Legolas and Enguina journey to Ithilien to find the place for their new home just months before their wedding. But a storm is brewing, for when her betrothed's fate hangs in the balance, Enguina will have to confront the one who destroyed her past and continues to cast a shadow over her future. *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: The song in this prologue is "Borrow Mine" by Bebo Norman. I did not write it, nor do I own it; I just liked the lyrics! This prologue is set some weeks after the events of "The Lost Found," but before "The Demon Faced."

Also, by the by, someone posted a review that this story, or Enguina, I take it, is a Mary Sue. Someone please correct me if I'm wrong, lol, but I thought the definition of a Mary Sue was someone who swooped in to save the day and was a flawless, perfect character. Enguina is actually none of those things in this story-she has a temper, she is not the hero, and she has had a challenging and rough past. None of these things make her unflawed, nor does she actually save Legolas from danger, though she may try. Anyway, someone reviewed and said this was a Mary Sue, but I guess if it is, it is. I just thought that it didn't fit the definition of a Mary Sue; correct me if I'm wrong! Besides, who needs a Mary Sue when you have the characters Tolkien created, right? Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir-aren't they heroic enough? LOL

Anyway, enjoy the story if you're interested!

* * *

 _Prologue_

 _Darkness_ …that was what she saw first when her eyes cleared, and she felt it and tasted it and _hated_ it. She found it closing in around her and crushing her, consuming her—taking her down into the depths of the dark that flooded her mind and heart. She could barely fight it, weakened as she was by the horrible dreams that plagued her almost every night. She could feel her greatest fears coming ever closer, pouring over her so quickly that she shivered against her will beneath the warmth of the blankets. In her head she could see him…feel him. In her mind his hands were on her, his body pressing down into hers and crushing her into the snow near Ithilien…her stomach spun.

Staring into the darkness of her room, wide awake, she hardly dared to move. Her eyes searched the walls for any sign that there was anyone but her in the room, anyone at all—she could see nothing, not that it meant anything. No one had ever been here before, but there was something different in the shadows tonight…something frightening. Hardly able to convince herself to move, she wrenched forward to sit up so that she could see the floor—no one present there either. Her heart leapt into her throat and she fought back the wave of sickness that flooded her as she yanked the blankets from her body.

The pressure in her chest was extreme, but she slid her feet to the floor, unable to lie in the bed any longer. She rose, staggering along the width of her bedroom until she could lean against the wall for support. She stood there, trying to catch her breath, the shadows in the room closing in around her, frightening her. Closing her eyes tight against them and folding her arms cross her chest seemed a good defense against the dark, but it did nothing to soothe her, and the thought of being unable to see the trouble when it emerged from the shadows to get her left her only one choice—open them again.

Wrenching them open, she let them flash around the darkness, trying desperately to see movement in the shadows. Somewhere in the depths of her thoughts she knew that this was _foolish_ , but her terror far outweighed it; she knew there was nothing in this room that was waiting for her…nothing that was going to emerge from the shadows and wrap hurtful arms around her and tear at her soul. Her breath came in gasps, and as she leaned her weary body against the wall, her head back, she began shaking once more.

She felt as though she was going to be sick; she wanted to heave from the fear and terror that filled her in the darkness. She _had_ to escape it, beat it, fight it back…but she could never do it. Her heart cried aloud to Ilúvatar; every night… _every night_ for the last two weeks it had been one of those dreams, over and over. Never before had she had the nightmare so many nights; her heart was full of dread. _Please…Father, Eru, Ilúvatar, strong tower of strength…help me!_ _ **Help me**_ _! Do not let me remain here in this darkness…terrified…too terrified to move!_

She had to get out, and if she could trust her legs, she would do so. She reached out a shaking hand towards the chair, grasping at the wrap that lay across its back. It slipped through her fingers and to the floor. Immediately, she yanked her arm back to the wall and pressed herself against it, gasping for breath. _Fool! Fool! There is nothing to terrify you! Grab it and run! Get moving feet and hands, grab the shawl and run! Oh, just forget the shawl! Forget it and run!_

In another second she shoved herself from the wall and bolted across the bedroom, down the hall, through the kitchen and out the front door of the guesthouse. Once outside, she thought she might be better; the cool night air filled her lungs, her bare feet slapping the stone as though she was running for her life…and in her heart and mind, she was.

 _Better outside_? _Ha_! All around her she could feel the darkness pressing in; it was a new moon, and it was so dark. She wanted nothing more than to either scream aloud or be sick right there on the cobblestones. She held her breath, though her lungs felt as if they would burst, and she ran faster, pouring on the speed so that nothing could reach her, nothing could touch her… _please…please! Let me make it before…before…_

She knew she had reached her destination when she nearly collided with the front door. Reaching up, she slammed her open hand against it and then whirled around, staring out into the night behind her, her back pressed against the door as though something was holding her to it but she was really just too terrified to move. Finally, she had no choice but to breathe and the gasp that she brought in made her head and stomach spin. Her eyes darted about as though whatever was lurking was going to get her, was going to reach out and grab her…

But thankfully, by the grace of Ilúvatar, she had only been standing against the door for four seconds. The lock clicked; she knew it was the doorknob and she whirled around, her hair and eyes nearly wild. The elf's hands immediately fell to her shoulders after the door had opened and his voice was soft and comforting.

"Enguina?" Legolas asked, and simply hearing him speak her name with calm served to slow her frantic breathing. "What is it, _moina quén_?" The words were not even out of Legolas' mouth before he wanted to hit himself even for asking. He already knew what the matter was.

Enguina swallowed hard and he slowly drew her near, knowing she was unable to answer. She let out one sob as he drew her against his chest, but she was so stiff and frightened that he could not get her to loosen so that she might take comfort in the warmth he offered. Her whole body began to shake as she leaned against him, his arms tight around her.

 _Not again…not this nightmare again…_ Once again, he was amazed she had made it to his front door before collapsing; she was so full of hurt. He rested his head on hers, closing his eyes as he felt her tears begin soaking into his tunic. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, trying to bring her comfort.

"Can…" she whispered, trembling all over, "can we please…not stand out here?" She sounded as though she was freezing, but Legolas knew it was because she was terrified.

"Gimli is asleep inside," he said softly, thinking that perhaps she would not wish to remain there. "But we can sit near the fire and I—"

"No," she said and he stopped as he had been reaching for the door.

He hesitated, unsure of what that meant. "We shall walk then…" he said in the same soothing tones as before. "I will walk you home, and then I will remain at your side."

"I do not know if I can…" she stuttered and, though he kept his arm tightly about her, he began to turn them around to face the guesthouse.

"Of course you can," he said, trying to ease her fear. "I am here with you…nothing can harm you." He noticed how her fingers clutched the front of his tunic, but he collected her hands and held them within his own. "Shall we go?" he whispered, and she carefully moved a step forward…and then another step…and then they were walking slowly towards the door. He could see her eyes flickering back and forth across the dark of the street, her body trembling against his even as they walked. They walked for a few more paces and he rubbed her arms as they drew closer. "Keep your eyes on the door," he said, "and I shall watch the street."

Her eyes lifted slowly to the door, and then suddenly she stopped in her tracks, her hands gripping his arm as she turned into him; he winced as her nails pierced his flesh. "The door…the door…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "The door…it is…"

"It is open?" Legolas supplied to finish her sentence and he stared at it. It looked as though it had been thrown open in a hurry, not as though someone had been sneaking about. Yet, he felt as though it would not dampen her worry to tell her that. "Are you certain that you closed it?" he asked softly, and she shook her head roughly against his chest.

"No…" she whispered hoarsely, "I cannot remember." The terror in her voice was plain. Legolas comfortingly ran a hand across her shoulders.

"That is all right," he replied. "Come with me and I shall check the house. There is no one inside; no one is going to hurt you." He knew that she was frightened, but they moved to the door and went inside anyway; she tried to believe in his promises, his word.

Everything in the kitchen was untouched…or at least it was exactly the way Enguina had left it. Legolas closed the door, and she was still in his arms. "Stay right here," he said gently. Setting her back against the door, he kissed her forehead and then released her to explore every room. Her bedroom was in a right state, the sheets lying in tangles on the floor, the chair near the dressing table overturned. She had not fought with anyone for her defense…she had been fighting herself.

Returning to her side, he took her back in his arms and then, carefully, he sat her down before the fireplace in the drawing room. She did not want to let him go again, but he got her to release him for a moment so that he could light a fire to give her some warmth. He was going to make her some tea, but thought against it. Right now, his presence was what she needed the most; he felt her pain as though it was his own. She had not called for him tonight in her sleep.

He was quiet as he held her close; she had relaxed only a little, but it was enough to get her to rest her head on his chest. No, this was certainly not the first nightmare, and he knew it would not be the last. Unsure of the entirety of the dream, he only could surround her with his love and hope that each time would get better…but it seemed that any night she came to him grew worse as the time progressed, as though something was coming. Something horrible was coming, at least in her dreams, and he was powerless to stop it there in her head.

Every time, he ended the night wishing that he were in the bed with her, wishing that he could simply reach over, wrap his arms about her and hold her close, wake her from the dream. Yet it was a little more than three months until they were to be wed, and he had to remain at a respectful distance from her. Oh, three months left of this suffering alone! He did not feel truly there for her, and that hurt him more than words could ever say. But…he was here now; that would have to be good enough.

They sat in silence for so long, Legolas had no idea how much time had passed. "Forgive me…" she finally whispered as he felt her loosening in his arms. She became nearly moldable against him. "Forgive me for acting this way…"

"No, I will not forgive you when you have done nothing wrong, Guin. I have spoken once and I shall speak ever of it again; you need not seek forgiveness." He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "You may ever seek me for comfort."

"I feel that is all I seek you for these days." Her voice was full of guilt. He rubbed his hand along her back.

"Only these long nights," he whispered. He ran the hand from her back up and along her face and she shivered against him; he held her more tightly. "Oh, Enguina…you are in terrible pain. I will comfort you," he whispered. "I am here…let your pain leave you. Have hope; things shall be better."

She let out a breath she had been holding. "The dreams…they are growing worse."

He would not ask her of them; he knew she could not answer him. Knowing that they were growing worse was terrible enough in his heart. "It will be all right."

"Legolas," she whispered, her voice full of despair, "how I wish I had your hope. Yet…all I see is _darkness_."

He laid his head on hers, grieved at her words. How could he help her fight an enemy that he could not see, that he knew nothing about? He knew that whatever her dreams were, there were at least two. One, he assumed was of the man who had taken her only a few months ago, she would run to him; the other…she would run only to Arwen and Aragorn, her terror and anguish so great that she could not bear to see him. He would find her there in the morning though, drinking tea with Arwen at the table, her throat so sore that he knew she had been screaming in the night. No…she would not come to him after that nightmare. He wished she would.

"There is so much light in this room, Guin…light that no shadow can ever touch," he told her gently. "Trust in Ilúvatar; He will make the morning ever more glorious when these dreams are done."

"Will they ever be done?" she asked him, raising her head to look into his eyes, hers wet. "Will the dreams ever stop? They are getting _worse_ , Legolas… _worse…_ and more frequent; always further and darker and…"

"Can I…may I pray for you?" he asked gently, and tears slipped from her eyes.

"I have…I have cried out so many nights; I have prayed that He might relieve my suffering. Yet…it remains," she forced out. "I need Him so desperately, but some nights He is so far from me. You have a hope that I cannot have, nor comprehend." He stroked her face, gently wiped her tears away as her eyes closed. He rested his forehead on hers.

"Holy One, Lord of All…I come before you tonight to ask for healing." He heard her choke on a sob as she began to cry in earnest again. " _Healing_ …Guin, my dearest Guin is in pain," he continued softly. "She needs your strength; she needs your compassion; she needs your great presence to comfort her. You are the great Healer; I have seen your mighty hand and outstretched arm before in so many places, so many hearts. Be here…be here with us.

"Help me, Ilúvatar, to be your light into her darkness. Help me to comfort her, strengthen her; guide me to give her your peace. Be near." He kissed her forehead and then whispered to her, "I have the strength to give you. Take my peace, Guin…take my love and accept it. Take my hope and feel it in your heart…even through the pain. Oh, my dearest, trust in me…trust in Ilúvatar and His grace."

He held her, and he sang softly to her:

 _Take my hand and walk with me a while  
For it seems your smile has left you  
And do not give in, when you fall apart  
When your broken heart has failed you  
I set a light up on a hilltop  
and show you my love for this world to see_

 _Take my love when all that you can see_  
 _Is the raging sea all around us_  
 _And do not give up for I am not letting go_  
 _And the One we know will not fail us_  
 _We will lay it all down, as we call out_  
 _Sweet Savior, help our unbelief!_

 _You can borrow mine when your hope is gone_  
 _Borrow mine when you cannot go on_  
 _For the world will not defeat you when we are side by side_  
 _When your faith is hard to find, you can borrow mine_

"You will always have me…" he whispered and he kissed the top of her head gently. "Trust Ilúvatar through me…" He could feel her body shaking with her tears and he simply held her. It seemed forever, but it was still dark when she finally lifted her head, raising a hand to wipe her tears away just as he did it with his own.

"Ilúvatar gave me you to trust," she said softly. "I know you trust Him, Legolas…for everything…but sometimes I cannot help but feel that He is not listening. I know this is my trial, but I do not know how much more of it I can bear."

"I will always be here to help strengthen you," he said, taking her face in his hands. "I will always be here to give you my peace. I love you, Guin," he whispered and he saw her eyes tear again.

"Hannon le," she whispered back to him, and he gave her a gentle smile.

"I speak nothing but the truth. My heart, my everything, is yours. When we are wed, you shall know me by heart and by soul."

She rested her hand against his chest. "That is how I want to know you," she said quietly. "I have to…I do not think I would still be here, that I would have made it through these last months without you." She actually smiled then, and it reached her eyes. "You have such peace that surrounds me, Legolas…you and Arwen and Aragorn. Your love has taught me so much…I only wish…" she hesitated, and he rested his forehead against hers and waited for her to continue if she could. "I only wish that I could overcome the depth of this pain within me."

"Together…we will," he whispered and he kissed her forehead.

"I pray with all my heart that you are right…and I thank Ilúvatar for you." She rested against his chest again and they sat together in front of the fire; she took in his peaceful presence and they simply sat…there was no need for words. She was strengthened by the light that shone through him; the peace of the One calmed her for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: The song used here is "I Want You Here," by Plumb, with minor edits. I did not write it, nor do I own it!

* * *

The walls stood silent and the night was one of the darkest since the coming of the month of April. The fire-light from the great stone ramparts did nothing to brighten the darkness for the first time in a month; the darkness was _in_ her, not without, though there were no stars. It was a peculiar time of night for Arwen, Queen of Gondor, to be out on the balcony…the dead of night was just that—life did not even seem to stir, and for her…well, she probably would not have even noticed if it had.

Aragorn was _late_ … _so very late_. She had been restless, waiting, something strangely pulsing in her heart, keeping her awake. She had fallen asleep it seemed only about an hour ago and had woken…she did not want to think of that yet. There was no cause for her to worry for him. He was in the City somewhere; it was not as though he was gone from her reach…though it seemed lately that he was simply beyond it.

How that had come to be…she nearly staggered backwards to the chair with the ache of longing that filled her heart. For over two months now she had been waiting—no _,_ busy _…busy by choice_. And busy she _had_ been; moving about the City and visiting the people, helping the rebuilding of losses among the fourth level, spending time with them in the midst of her own loss. She had tried to make up to them the time that she had needed to heal, and now it only seemed that the more she tried to make up one aspect of her life, the farther another had gotten away from her. The _wedding_ …dear heavens, the wedding was _so_ soon; in that instance time had most certainly gotten away from her. She did not know if she had the strength in her to let her friend go, even though she trusted the bridegroom with all her heart. Eventually, their path together would take them to Ithilien, along with Faramir and Éowyn, Gimli would return to the Glittering Caves and then all of them would be just beyond her reach…and she would be alone.

The weight in her heart crushed her, and this time, she did drop back into the chair. Her hands felt the strong wood, not rough but still unpolished, smoothed by the hands that she knew the feel of just as she knew her own: strong, powerful…rough but gentle…not so unlike the chair in which she sat. The very thought made her hands tighten, as if to hold on to that fleeting memory and keep it close to her. So much strength in those hands, so much will and power to bend and not break. So unlike her…she was strong, but not strong enough. Not to withstand _this_ storm.

She knew then at that moment that something was broken, something that had to be mended, and quickly. Her relationship with Aragorn was the heart of her existence. It was not that they never saw each other…it was simply that their paths did not cross as often as they would like. She would often go to sleep and he would come in late or she would wake and he would not be there. When was the last time she had held him close to her? When was the last time she had laid her head against his chest? When was the last time they had made love? No; that one she knew exactly when and where: December, she had been lying on the alpaca rug before their fire on her side, their bodies entwined, his hands resting against the five month swell of her womb…

Yes, she thought as she slipped her hands across her very flat and very empty abdomen. Yes, she remembered those moments quite well as tears filled her eyes; she had needed so long to heal, and the poison from the attack had made her so weak. It had taken her nearly a month to become herself again, to have the energy she had before the attack. By March, she had been more… _normal_. Her tears were reserved for nights…no one else saw them but Aragorn when they came, as she had forbidden herself from crying before Enguina. But she felt…she felt… _god,_ it was so difficult to describe! _Unwanted?_ Was it fair to say… _undesired_? Yes, she had needed time to heal; she knew that these past two months had been difficult on both her and Aragorn. He held her, comforted her...but he did not _touch_ her…and she had not sought him out either…

Arwen reached up and wiped her hand across her eyes. Enguina was not the only one plagued by nightmares, though hers were much more frequent and terrifying in their own right. Enguina had just been at the House crying last night, her dreams haunting her. Something was happening, but Arwen did not know why they were plaguing her like this. Aragorn had told Enguina in the midst of her pain that he was going to try to help her sleep with an elixir; the exhaustion was plain in her face last night. But being in the other room from where they were sleeping made her feel safe; she slept better when she was in their House on the divan by the window. No, Enguina was not alone with the nightmares; Arwen had just woken to one herself tonight, screaming as she came awake, and then followed that by spending the next few moments crying aloud for Aragorn. God…she had needed him tonight; she still did as she wrapped her hands around her arms and held herself tightly. She had not dreamed about the emptiness she felt for a week…now, all the memories were haunting her. She laid her head back against the chair and raised her tear-filled eyes to the heavens.

 _An ache so deep that I can hardly breathe_

 _This pain cannot be imagined; will it ever heal?_

 _He was inside, so small; a part of our lives, so strong_

 _All I could do was keep believing, but it was not enough_

 _Is anyone there?_

 _I waited so long for him to come_

 _Then he was here, and now he is gone…_

 _I was not prepared for him to leave me; this is misery!_

 _Are you still there?_

 _I want to scream! Is this a dream?_

 _How could this happen, happen to me?_

 _Grief everywhere; this nightmare!_

 _This kind of torture I cannot bear_

 _I want you here!_

She wept. _Father! Help me breathe! How many nights have I sat in this darkness, Father? I seek you…oh, I seek you and I need you. I_ _ **need**_ _you so desperately…your peace, your unfailing love, your faithfulness. Get me out of this dark place, bring me up out of this pit. With each day that passes I feel as though I have accepted this loss and then suddenly…suddenly the weight crushes my heart! How can I feel peace when I am in so much_ _ **pain**_ _?_

More tears flowed down her face. _Aragorn…Aragorn…is there a moment you do not sense my guilt, Father? How many nights have I prayed for his safe return and you have brought him home? It is as if I have lost him, yet we sleep in the same bed, and his arms are still around me…why does it feel so different? Why do I feel so…alone? Bring peace to this heart and peace to us, Father! Grant us time together…give us time to return to the closeness that we shared just a few months ago. I long to simply hold him again…just to hold him…to speak with him…_

She felt her nails dig into her arms through the shawl she had wrapped about her shoulders to keep out the spring chill, and she saw her arms were wrapped about herself, trying to hold something that was not there. She clenched her jaw and her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to keep back the tears that threatened to continue.

 _Oh, Ilúvatar…how I miss him!_ Even with that thought, the tears fell again, and she pushed herself from the warmth of the chair and hurried back into the House. Her hands still on her empty womb, she did not even try to grab the shawl as it fell from her shoulders. She burst back into the House and avoided returning to the bed; she would not be able to fall back to sleep even as exhausted as she was right now, not with her heart so bruised, not alone in this place. Falling down on her knees in front of the fire, her face pressed into her hands, she cried…for the baby, from the nightmare, from her foolish anxiety about Aragorn's love for her, from the pain of him not being present, from the agony of being alone for one more minute in this House…

She would never have been able to say how long she sat there before she felt his hands on her upper arms so suddenly they startled her. Her head came up as she gasped, and then her eyes met his for two seconds before she lost it completely again, heart-wrenching sobs taking over her body. She tried to stop them; it did not matter. Burying her face in his chest and neck, she clung to him as his arms wrapped around her. He had come because she had _reached_ for him. He was there in her pain; he could feel it because she could not prevent her mind from sharing her emotions with him. She _needed_ him, and he had come…that was all that mattered.

* * *

Aragorn stood in hushed silence at the window, hands clasped behind his back, the first hint of the dawn breaking over his form. From this window, his grey eyes could catch sight of the far away mountains, the stretching Anduin, and the shadowy form of Osgiliath rebuilt. He could see all that he had a hand in renewing; the borders of Mordor, the retaking of the overrun Ithilien, and the rebuilding of Osgiliath and the great walls that surrounded Minas Tirith's seven circles. He could see what he had sacrificed and given of himself in order for those things to be remade after the destruction of the Great War…and yet even at this moment none of that seemed to matter.

Even though his eyes remained focused on the far reach of Gondor, his kingdom, his heart reflected on the last three months that had passed by so quickly he felt he had not even been part of them. Soon after the announcement to the people of the engagement of Legolas and Enguina, time had seemed to fly, and it would only be another month or so until the wedding would actually be upon them. Instead of the planning, he had been rebuilding his City, finishing the wall and the Fourth Level, taking part in the councils, trying to come to terms with the loss of his son, choosing exhaustion over sleep. He frowned as he thought of all that he had missed these past months…and he shuddered as he once again felt as though he was missing a part of himself. He knew she felt it as keenly as he did.

His eyes averted, following the soft stream of light across the dimly lit room; there, on the nightstand, sat the smoldering candle, another memento of the long night's waiting. Ever did she remember to leave it burning, and ever did he come home after another mostly sleepless night to find it smoldering. Last evening, there had not been much resting in this House, and he had left the light to shine into the darkness. His eyes moved from it to the bed and the beauty that lay within it.

Too long had it been since he had just stood still and looked upon her sleeping form. Too long had it been since he had reached out and given his love; his time had not been his own. _Time…_ He had barely given any of it to her, and he felt the guilt pour through him so quickly that it cut his breath. His grief at the loss of that closeness was great.

She had needed time to heal from the loss of the child, and to recover from her time of sickness, and so they had both recovered and drawn strength from one another. But was that an excuse? Yes, he was using that as a crutch! Was she ready? Had she been ready for the last few weeks and he had not seen it, trying, as they were, to stay busy so they would not grieve? As time drew on, she grew caught up with Enguina, the plans for her dear friend's wedding, and the demanding schedule of her visits within the City to the people, and he…he could find no excuse for his own heart-pain. His love for her burned within him as a lit coal, and he wanted more than ever to take her into his arms and tell her that nothing had changed…that his love was the same today as it had ever been.

When he had left the side of Noldore and Dintîr last evening, it was because he had heard her cry in his heart. He knew what it was, what she was feeling, and he had gone to her. Entering the House and finding her so hurt by what she had felt in her dreams, seeing her hands around her womb, had made him sick. She had seemed so exhausted to him, her form slumped before the fire. Finally, they had made their way to the bedroom; they had barely talked. Some nights, he simply needed to hold her; there was nothing to be said.

But this morning, he was _determined_. His hands tightened as well as his jaw; he was playing keep-away with the council today. It had been his promise as he had held her last night. It would be her first ride in months, and it would be an opportunity to really talk. Whatever plans they had for the day could take a leap from the Embrasure. There would be no plans; _none_ , save one—restoration—and a _refocusing_ on the important things.

 _Ilúvatar…hear my call. I ask that You would please help me…help me restore what I have so hopelessly lost. I am more devoted to her than I am to any will but Yours…why is it that I have somehow lost sight of that? I have brought separation and grief to our hearts. Who am I to have done so? I need to be reminded that You bring us strength to balance our lives and You have given her to me so that I might have a physical presence of that strength. Help me not to be lost in the turmoil of my life…help me to remind her that she is the light that keeps me walking on this often exhausting path. I see her no matter what I am doing, and each moment more that passes brings me more guilt. Forgive me for neglecting the blessing You have given me; please help me to be the husband that she deserves._

Without realizing it, he had crossed the floor and was sitting on the bed beside her, and when he opened his eyes, he reached out a hand to her face. Gently, he traced those features, feeling the revelation of what he had been missing without that soft skin beneath his fingertips. He swallowed hard. "Forgive me, meleth…forgive my inattention, Arwen…" he said softly, and he sighed. He smoothly brushed strands of hair from her sleeping face, and he watched as she blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on him.

"Good morning," she whispered, and he could see the surprise in her eyes.

"Good morning, _vanimelda_ ," he replied with a soft smile, his voice husky. Her hand reached up and fingered his soft, dark hair.

"Is it day already, _verno_?" she asked just as softly. "Do you not have somewhere to be?"

"I do," he agreed, taking her hand, "but not where you might expect. This morning, Ilúvatar has brought many things to my attention, and it would do me good not to ignore His speech to my heart."

Arwen's eyebrows rose slowly. "What did he say to you?"

He pressed her palm to his lips, looking into her eyes. "Today is mine, to do with as I please, and I intend to take every minute of it and put it to good use. Will you…will you spend this spring day with me, Arwen?"

The surprise was clear on her face. "I would. What are we going to do with it?"

"It has been far too long since Asfaloth bore a rider," he suggested. "I thought perhaps we could begin there." He hesitated a moment and then sighed. "Is there anything that you had planned for the day that—"

"No," she answered immediately. "My day is yours."

* * *

Within the City itself, life was starting to stir. The day was beginning with that same beautiful sunrise that all could see, and as the light poured through Enguina's windows she woke. She blinked a few times, and then pulled the covers over her head. _Must it be morning?_ This meant that she actually had to stop her most recent dream of Legolas. _But…waking means that I am able to physically see him_. That somehow sounded a lot better by the moment. She smiled to herself and rubbed her face in the pillow. It felt good, for a moment, to laugh.

How much she had changed in four short months! If she had not come to Minas Tirith to see Arwen, she would have been riding to the Grey Havens, where she thought peace awaited her, and now…now things were so different! She was in _love_ ; she had never thought it possible! _Legolas, Legolas!_ She was the luckiest woman alive; she could not thank Ilúvatar enough for the blessing of this man who loved her in her life. Love, she had believed, was completely beyond her reach, but _marriage_? Impossible!

But it had happened. Legolas had asked her to be his wife…never mind that he was a prince of an Elvish Realm; never mind that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen; never mind that he was caring and kind and wonderful and sensitive and humorous and…Eru in Heaven, her list could go on for hours! A little less than two months… _two months_ until their wedding, and there was so much left to do. At least they had already sent messengers to those they wished to attend. She prayed with all her heart that Erumar would consent to come; though she did not expect too much. The poor thing had lost everything…she may have already died of a broken heart, though she refused to think that way. But if she thought of things she was most fretting, she hoped that Legolas' father would approve of her. Her stomach flipped over and she forced herself to relax. _King_ Thranduil… No, it would not be easy to convince him that she was worthy of his son; especially when she did not think _herself_ worthy. She tossed the covers off, determined not to think such things when she had just woken, and as she turned and swung her legs out of bed, she was surprised by the fact that there was a _person_ in her bedroom!

There in a chair near the window sat the love of her life, the reason for her existence in Middle-Earth. The sunlight on his face, his eyes unfocused in sleep, his hands folded in his lap…every detail came to her attention. She wondered at him still being there, and then she remembered last evening. She had been sitting in front of the fire with him and they had been speaking…she must have fallen asleep in his arms. She smiled of the thought of him carrying her to bed, though she wished she had been awake for it. He must have been so weary that he simply fell asleep in the chair…but she knew there could possibly have been another reason. She sighed and rubbed her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Yes, it could certainly be that Legolas had stayed because of the nightmare…that was probably it.

Her dear husband-to-be had many long days lately, staying awake and watching her sleep. He was spending time with Gimli and with her as they planned the final details of the wedding. If he was not doing this, he was running errands, or he was with the King, and what they spoke of she knew not. He looked so peaceful sleeping there that she hated to wake him, though a part of her wished him to see her first in the morning. She sighed; choosing to allow him to sleep for a little longer, she gathered fresh clothes for the day and moved to the bath.

When the sun began to shine directly into Legolas' face, he woke. He rubbed his eyes, trying to force the spots in front of them to disperse. He shook his head and laughed softly at himself. _Never fall asleep with your eyes toward the dawn_. How many times had his father spoken of that to him? He wished he had taken count. Then he realized where he was, seated upright in a chair…the chair in the guesthouse. He groaned and rubbed his eyes again. _Not again! People are going to_ _ **talk**_ _, Legolas!_

Once more, he had fallen asleep in Enguina's home. Gimli would not be worried; this had happened too many times to them, and the dwarf assumed he knew exactly where the elf was. But others? He was certain that people would begin to think… _things_. He had no desire at all whatsoever of giving that impression to a City that knew him so well, but that was not his only worry; he did not want anyone thinking ill of Enguina. They were innocent of any wrong-doing, and he would never think of laying a hand on her until they were wed; it was the proper thing to do. He frowned as he thought of the councilman's words to Arwen a few months ago…that was what they would think of Enguina if he was not careful. No, last evening he spent staring into the night, asking himself all sorts of questions. Were things well-planned for the wedding? Was everything going as scheduled? And, most importantly, what could he do about these dreams?

He shook his head. Why did he question himself? Ilúvatar himself was watching over Enguina, and all of his friends were wrapped up in the wedding, and though he did not believe it possible, they seemed more excited than he did! It rather amazed him. Although, he supposed, it should not have. The City had not had a large event in some time where members of other races had gathered; the last was after the War when the coronation took place. This wedding would be something delightful for the people to celebrate…no matter what sort of hassle it was to prepare for. Nothing could be done simply.

He loved Enguina with all his heart, and he wanted her to be happy. He was devoted to her and cared for her more than his own life. He knew all those he invited would love her as their own family; and uniting all his friends once more in one place would be a great blessing. Éomer had sent a messenger in return to let them know he was attending, and so had his father…all of them would be journeying to Minas Tirith to see him take a wife. He was blessed to have so many who desired to see him happy. He could not wait until they were all together once more.

Legolas heard her soft steps, and he raised his eyes to the doorway just as she entered. He gave her a sheepish smile, but hers was filled with delight. Her hair was wet, and she looked calmer than she had in days. "Forgive me, _moina quén_ ," he said softly, "I must have fallen asleep in this chair and forgotten to leave."

She laughed and she came to sit at his feet, reaching up a hand into his. "I do not mind, Legolas. I do…so _enjoy_ waking up to you." She smiled as he blushed slightly. "You looked so peaceful this morning that I did not wish to wake you; it has been long since any of us have been able to truly rest." It was her turn to blush. "It is probably the reason I fell asleep in your arms last evening," she added sheepishly, "and it is mostly my fault that this has been happening."

He shook his head. "No, it is not. We cannot help what we dream, and you—"

"This morning," Enguina said, interrupting him, trying to distract him. "I was dreaming of you."

"You flatter me to make me forget," he said, giving her a smile. "But that is all right, dear one, for I am happy and content, and you have free reign to fall into my embrace whenever you so desire." She smiled.

"Are you certain that you should allow me such great freedom?"

"There are very few things I am more certain about…" he replied, and he bent forward so that his face was above hers, and he leaned over to brush his lips to hers gently.

"What are the other things you are so certain about?" she murmured against his lips.

"Mmm…my love for you…" She could not help but smile at that as he punctuated his words with another kiss. "That we are getting married in two months…that there is nothing more I would rather do but stay here with you every moment."

She grinned as he sat back and she rested her head on his knee. "Two months," she whispered. "Two more months and I can be at your side always."

He stroked her face. "Two more months and I will no longer have needless shame for remaining in your home long after I should have left."

"You should not have shame _now_ ," she replied. "Why should we care what people think?" A pout came over her face and she frowned at him. "What do they know? They do not understand that you and I are made for each other." She gave him a little smile then. "They would say nothing if they understood my need for you."

He touched her face gently again. "Do you truly want them to understand? To gossip about you like that? I would not have them impugn your honor or make you out to be some sort of scarlet woman."

She burst out laughing, even as he blushed. " _Scarlet woman_?" She grinned at him. "Oh, Legolas…you make me laugh! As if we should care what they think or say."

He sighed. "If it is all the same to you, though, I would prefer they do not whisper about you. I want to be as honorable as possible where you are concerned," he said seriously.

It was her turn to blush. "Legolas, no one who knows you would ever question that." He smiled at her, running his fingers through her hair. "These last few months have been hard on all of us," she said softly, enjoying the feel of him close to her. "We have been so busy preparing for the wedding; even with help it has been a short amount of time."

He was silent for a moment. "Do you think we need more time? Should we push it—"

"No," she said immediately. "I was just mentioning that it was stressful, not that I wanted to move it, Legolas. Beside, we have had help in the form of Arwen and Éowyn." She frowned and sighed again. "It has been…a difficult three months."

"I know what it is you speak of."

She was silent a moment. "I worry for them," she said suddenly, but softly. "It has been so hard on them both, the loss of their babe…" She could feel the lump form in her throat, but she swallowed it away. "Each time I see Aragorn, I worry he shall drop where he stands, and yet he presses forward. Arwen is physically well, but she has only regained a little of the weight she lost and I…I know she still dreams." She said the last a bit guiltily, and Legolas looked down into her face.

"How do you know that?"

"I was there the last time," she said softly, and Legolas knew immediately that meant she was asleep on their divan. "It was only a few days ago, and she woke crying in the night. Aragorn was there, but it took him so long to comfort her. I can sometimes see it in her eyes when she holds Annî, or looks at Éowyn. She and Aragorn both. Every once in a while I see that hungry look in their eyes, that look of despair."

"It is still too soon, I think, for Arwen to deal with it well."

"Arwen spoke to me," she continued softly, "when I first arrived…that she knew their time was short." She frowned, embarrassed. "Even _I_ had said that mortals do not live longer than a horse in our eyes. Now I keep praying for more time every time I look at them." She blushed. "I feel as though this is gossip, but, I wish they would make more time for each other."

"As do I," he softly agreed. He laughed softly then, trying to lighten the mood again. "Gimli is beginning to drive me mad."

She laughed as well. "Is that because he is jealous that you would rather be here with me?"

"No," he chuckled, bending over to kiss her again, "he continues to offer to do things for me, or to help plan for something else." He shook his head. "I worry that he is plotting against me, for every time I turn about I seem to catch him in the planning of some devious act. I think I should begin to worry of what devilry he is developing for our wedding."

"Dearest," Enguina said soothingly, "I am certain that—"

"He is up to no good," he agreed, nodding. "Yes, that much I suspected."

"No, no, Legolas," she said, shaking her head, "I—"

"And I am certain that whatever it is he is planning, _you_ are in on it," he said, poking her nose. She eyed him indignantly, placing her hand on her chest and sitting up straight.

"Me?" she asked innocently. "Wherever and whyever would you get such an impression? Have I ever done _anything_ , my Lord, that would cause you such…suspicion?"

"You are the biggest _tease_!" he said. "If I were to tell _you_ that I was not planning anything to drive you mad at the wedding—no jokes, no fooling about—"

"I would never believe you," she agreed honestly. "You are too much of a tease yourself. But, perhaps it is good to have a bit of healthy practical joking…at least when I am _not_ on the receiving end." She gave him a devious little smile.

"Arwen told me not long ago that it was _you_ who would always get them into trouble."

"Not at the start," she stated with confidence. "In the beginning our roles were reversed. Arwen was certainly the trouble and I was the one who dug us out. Later, when Arwen's mood turned shaded and she 'grew up,' _she_ was the one who dug us out, and I…well, what was I supposed to do? I had to take the available trade she had left for me!"

He laughed. "You are _both_ mad."

"But do not worry; I shall seek revenge upon Arwen for telling you such tales of my guilt." She patted his arm gently with a smile. "But you, Legolas, have nothing to fear." He looked deeply into her eyes and then squinted. He sat back with his arms crossing his chest.

"I do believe that is the first time you have lied directly to my face."

She burst out laughing and got to her feet. "You amuse me so, Legolas!"

"Yet you do not deny it."

She turned back and gave him a sly smile. "No, I shall not deny it."

"Thank Ilúvatar that at least you have not gained Aragorn as a friend in your fiendish ways. I shall have to persuade him that it will go easier for him if he were on my side."

Enguina's eyebrows rose. "You may have the freedom to try."

He looked hard at her. "Do not tell me you have already sought him out in your vicious schemes!"

She shrugged. "How can I not have the King involved?"

He threw up his hands in frustration. "Well, since I have been plotted against right and left this morning, I have decided that now is the time to make my exit." He rose as well and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Good _day_ , my Lady."

He turned brusquely to leave, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward her. Her other hand caught his other shoulder, and she held him in place as she kissed him hard. He laughed as she released him, and he shook his head.

"You are quite beautiful when your eyes are aflame," he said softly. She raised an eyebrow.

"I was not angry, love; I was determined." She smiled wickedly, "Never turn your back on a desperate woman." With that, she turned to slip past him into the other room, but he turned her back into him, pulling her into his arms and to his chest where he held her tight.

"Never turn _your_ back on your loving husband," he whispered so softly.

"But we are not yet married," she replied in the same low tone.

"A lesson for when we _are_ …" he returned, and then bent his head down to kiss her gently. Then, he slowly released her. "Im mela le, _moina quén_."

"I love you, too, dearest husband-to-be."

"I really must be on my way. You have an advantage over me," he teased, "as you are clean and I have not yet bathed. You will have to release me so that I can go."

She smirked at his teasing. "You _do_ realize that it is _you_ who are holding _me_?"

Glancing down, he did notice that his arms were around _her_ …and he blushed, releasing her. "I suppose you are correct."

She held his arm for a moment more. "You are coming right back?"

He smiled at her and nodded. "Of course."

"I cannot wait until then," she replied, and he swiftly left her home for the faster he left, the faster he could return. She watched him go and, laying a hand on her heart, felt it flutter.

O! how she loved him!


	3. Chapter 3

The rushing sound of the bursting river and the wind whipping through the trees filled her ears, and she delighted in it. She felt her hair flying back in the wind, and beneath her, she felt Asfaloth stretch out—Arwen felt as though she were soaring on the back of an eagle.

"That is right, Asfaloth," her voice sang out against the breeze blowing back into her face, " _we_ shall have the victory this time!" The big grey tossed his head and hurtled forward. Between his ears, Arwen could see the goal of her race—a large, rather ominous-looking sycamore that held no fear for her. She smiled widely and thought that she rather enjoyed the exhilaration of winning. It had been far too long since she had been on the back of a horse; Asfaloth clearly thought so, too.

But the winning part was not to be. Behind her on the right she suddenly heard the rhythmic pounding of hooves, now out of beat with Asfaloth's. She did not even need to urge the grey as he ran flat out; he was _tearing_ along as fast as he could, the desire to win pushing him forward. Still, it was not enough; the bay drew alongside, grass and dirt flying out from beneath him. The small crooked smile on Aragorn's face was unforgettable as he passed.

When finally the sycamore was behind them, the bay had reached it first at least three lengths ahead. Arwen was breathless; she had forgotten as usual the craftiness of the horse and rider she rode against. He never failed to take her by surprise! How many times since they were first married had she been beaten in this way, and _still_ she could not figure out how he was doing it! She shook her head at her loss, but she could not help the smile that formed on her lips; she tried to tame her hair with her hand, but it blew back to madness a moment later. This time, she let it go.

Huffing and puffing and prancing, Asfaloth drew up next to the bay, and Brego bobbed his head up and down again and again. The Elven woman laughed as Asfaloth walked shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Aragorn watched her, the sunlight of this gorgeous spring morning on her face, delight and laughter where he had not seen it in some time.

"We have not ridden together in so long that I forgot about Brego's great cleverness!" she teased as Brego tossed his head. "What an exhilarating ride, and the _perfect_ day for it!" The smile upon her face entranced him a moment so that he did not speak at first; then he gave her a sweet smile.

"I worked hard to teach him so much in the way of craftiness." Brego bumped the grey with his shoulder as they walked along, and so the two riders were very close to each other. Aragorn reached out and brushed the hair gently from her face, leaving his fingers to linger there. The sun's first, actual rays of light were beginning to appear, and he could think of nothing but her. It was as the first morning he had ever seen her; the light shining on her form and he was once again completely captivated "What beauty is this Ilúvatar has granted me?" he said, speaking softly. "Such light is in your face, Arwen, my love?"

Her genuine smile filled his heart. "The reflection of the love-light on your own, Aragorn," she said, and she reached up to cover his hand that lay on her face. "What a beautiful morning it is," she whispered and he nodded.

"It is the perfect morn for such a ride," he agreed. The two horses, still arguing, turned back around to return towards the sycamore tree. Aragorn closed his eyes against the wind and smiled. "It has been a long winter; it is good to see life in everything once more." He glanced to her and gently squeezed her hand. "Within you as well…and you have been feeling much better." He noticed her take her lower lip between her teeth, and she was silent in return. Inwardly, he cursed himself. "Forgive me, I should not have—"

"Do not," she said softly, looking away from his eyes and leaning forward to wrap her hand in Asfaloth's mane. "Is it not… _better_ to talk about this in the light of day? Rather than the darkness of night…when the walls seem to close in around us?" Her voice was hushed, sad, full of the honest pain of remembrance. He raised her hand to his lips.

"Come; dismount, and we will talk."

They did. Upon reaching the sycamore, they untacked their boys in silence and then released them to run wherever they chose; after nosing both of them, the two of them disappeared, chasing each other far away. Aragorn settled down beneath the tree, his back against it, Arwen resting against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she lowered her head back to his shoulder, turning her face towards his neck. They sat in silence, watching the River for many minutes.

"I should be asking _your_ forgiveness," she whispered, and he frowned. "I am sorry for my dreams that wake you late in the night and force you to get no rest; I am sorry for my strange state of…emotion that seems to change as the course of the wind; I am sorry for my sadness…there are moments when it simply takes hold…and I cannot control it."

"Why…why are you apologizing for any of this?" he told her gently. "You are my better half. The part of me I know, I understand, better than myself. Nothing will change the knowledge that he is gone, Arwen. Nothing can take that pain away." He stroked her cheek, her face, her hair. "We will carry it the rest of our lives."

"I thought," she replied, her voice still a whisper as she tried to speak around the lump in her throat, "that it might become _easier_."

"It will…it _has_. You have only had two nightmares in the past week… _that_ is better. I only thought of him twice yesterday." He winced. "We are…doing better. Though, perhaps that makes it sound as though I am trying to forget."

"Not forget…live." He nodded. She thought about the day they went to his grave, how she had wept, clutched Aragorn as he had held her, how she had not slept three days after the visit, how he had given her a sleeping draught without her knowledge, how angry she had been…and then how _grateful_. She sighed. "I feel as though I have not been trying very hard."

"Do not judge yourself. We all heal in our own way, _and_ you were physically hurt." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "And with the planning for the upcoming wedding and keeping things in order, the rebuilding of the fourth level…"

"We have been busy," she agreed. She turned her head to look up into his face. "I feel like I…have not seen your face in a month."

He smiled. "You saw it just last evening." He was teasing her, but she was serious, and she could see behind his eyes that he knew what she meant.

Eyes open now, she studied the curve of his chin, the line of his jaw, and the bristles of his beard that were flecked with grey. _How long has it been?_ She wondered in that this moment, this time, was the first in over a month when she had truly studied him…really looked at him. It scared her that it had been that long since she had lain in his arms and been awake simply to be with him. Tears formed in her eyes as she felt the guilt of being a stranger to her own husband—or was _he_ the stranger? Both of them were at fault. There were the times Aragorn would fall asleep over parchment, would not come home until so late she did not hear him and rose so early he did not wake her, and then sometimes he did not return and his bed was cold. She was gone all day; visiting friends within the city, giving care to the people. She worried for him constantly, and she prayed for him so often that she believed Eru to be tired of his name on her lips.

And it was in the studying of his face, the two new lines about his eyes, that she grew sad with grief, for she had missed their appearing and development. She had not seen a more wise face, nor a more handsome one and the surprise that he continued to change with the seasons made her realize that she should not blink; for in blinking she would miss that change that only made her love for him increase and grow. His brow so noble; his chin so proud; and his eyes…O! his eyes so fair and honest and full of affection!

She reached up and touched those lines by his eyes, one on his forehead, her mouth open as she stared at him. "How…how did I miss these? When did they come to be?"

"Worry," he murmured. "I will admit they came as worry for you. I discovered them one morning in February…and I have never looked at them since."

"I am sorry."

"Do not be. I love you," he said honestly. "I would lay my life at your feet. What are three lines in my face compared to losing you?"

Several moments of tears followed where she simply could not speak, could not reply to such words. He stroked her hair and whispered words of love to her, tightening his arms around her and holding her even closer. She ran her fingers down his face, from temple to chin, and then followed down his neck, beneath his collar where her nails met his collarbone. She rested her fingers there, hesitated, and then leaned forward, _slowly_ pressing her lips to the juncture of his throat, her eyes closing.

She could not look at him. "I…have _wanted_ to love you…but…I have been afraid."

He knew immediately she meant to _physically_ love him; it was the rest of her words that stunned him. "A… _afraid_?"

His tone was surprise, of course. What could she mean? "I have been afraid of the desire I have for you…afraid that it was…that my motive was…something else…"

He suddenly knew what she meant as he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I did not bring you here to try to have a baby," he whispered, and he felt her breath catch in pain as he said the words—but they needed to be said. "Were you…afraid I would suggest it?"

She tried to let out the breath that had caught in her lungs. It was difficult. "I…I did not know _what_ to expect, Aragorn; and I did not…want…" she hesitated, tears filling her eyes as the rest of the words came out in a rush, "to waste our time trying because we do not even know if—"

" _Hush_ ," he said firmly, but with a gentler tone. "You are speaking of things you do not know. Everything is _fine_ …nothing is _wrong_ with you, or me, for that matter. You cannot keep reliving the past. One man's words—"

"It was not only one man's words," she said softly, but she continued before he could interrupt her as she knew he would. "It is a known fact that a woman who…if a woman…well, she is more—"

"That is _not_ always true," he insisted, "and you miscarried because you were poisoned. You did not miscarry because of something you said or did…you know that, yes?" Rubbing his thumb on the back of her neck, he continued. "You should not still be thinking of Gildion's words. He was a _fool_. He does not know you; he never did. You were pure, Arwen, you always have been; anyone who knows you knows the truth." He studied her for a moment; she was silent, taking in his words.

"I know he is wrong about that," she told him softly. "I know what I have done in my life. But…I cannot help feeling that this is a punishment, that Ilúvatar is punishing me for something I have done. And what if…what if…" she hesitated again, but he waited her out. "Sometimes I feel so empty." He watched her other hand stray towards her stomach and then pull back. "We have been waiting for _seven_ years…and now…"

"We still have so much time, beloved," he murmured, beginning to kiss her forehead. "We have all the time in the world. Everything is going to be all right." He brought his thumb up against her earlobe and whispered, "What say you to these thoughts: I intend to love you the _entire_ rest of the morning…and possibly most of the afternoon with absolutely no hurry, no matter who is waiting for us."

"With no motive?" she asked so softly he nearly did not hear her.

"There _is_ a motive," he said, taking her face in his hands. "Arwen, look at me." She could not refuse him. "I want to make love with you. Why? Because I love you, adore you. Because I want to give myself to you in that way over and over and over again. Because I want to feel that oneness, that closeness with you as we have not shared in far too long. I _belong_ to you; I want to hold you in my arms and feel your skin upon my skin, your breath on my neck, your heartbeat against my chest. I _want_ you. That is my motive." He chuckled suddenly. "In fact, I might rebel so much that we miss supper."

"Miss supper?" she said, stumbling over the words.

"I am going to take the whole day and spend time here with you and lie in this grass and _rejoice_ because Ilúvatar has forever blessed me with you and your love. _And_ …loving _you_ , physically, is a form of worship to him…a spiritual experience."

"That…" she whispered, "is _so_ …"

He gave her a little smile, clearly enjoying himself too much. "Beautiful?"

" _Blasphemous_." But he could tell she was embarrassed at his words.

He laughed. "No it is not! It is _true_. When I caress your skin, I feel as though I am touching His finest creation and I bless His name for that. Physically loving you _is_ worship. Let go of your fear; forget the world for a little while, forget everything except _us_. Let me…let me love you. We have… _all day_ …we can go as slow as we like."

She blinked, feeling his fingertips on her ears; she knew what was coming, and she knew what he meant. "It will _have_ to be slow." She trembled; she could not help it as he stroked her ears, her eyes closing involuntarily as well. "Ah…that is _not_ taking it _slow,_ beloved."

He moved, quickly but smoothly, and she found her back being laid against the fresh grass near the river. Opening her eyes, she met his as he leaned over her, bending low to kiss her as her hands wrapped around him to hold him closer to her.

"I promise that _everything_ will be slow," he said, kissing away from her mouth and back along her jaw line, "and _torturous_."

There was no way that she could deny she was looking forward to _that._ "I…have missed you so much," she whispered, dragging her hands along his sides.

"I have missed you, too, beloved," he said in the same tone of voice. She felt his lips reach the base of her ear and she suddenly realized that forgetting about _everything_ else in Middle-Earth at the moment was nowhere near as difficult as she had thought it was going to be.

* * *

After returning to his home to change and collect himself after Enguina's teasing, Legolas headed back out to collect her for breakfast. How was he to _handle_ himself around her? He shook his head in frustration. Enguina was a lovely mystery, and he found it very difficult that he was supposed to be all reasonable and controlled when the truth was…well, the truth was… His hands curled into fists. The truth was that he was beginning to have difficulty keeping his hands off of her! The last thing he would ever do would be to threaten her honor, her innocence. He was not the kind! But when he looked at her, he could barely stop imagining what it would be like to run his hand along her arm all the way to her throat…with no clothing to hinder him.

He swallowed. Yes, that was _just_ the thing to be thinking as he made his way back to her door. He would cut his hands off before he would ever touch her in such a way. They were to be married in a little less than two months; how in heaven's name had Aragorn waited nearly forty years to marry Arwen? Dear Ilúvatar…he was ready to share every bit of himself with Enguina in every way humanly possible. But, he was an elf; how in the world had he lived so long and never felt this way before?

"Legolas?" He heard that little laugh of his name and he looked up onto her porch. How long had he been standing right here in front of the guesthouse, staring at the stairs? How long had she known he was there? How long had she been standing at the top of the steps before him as she waited for him to acknowledge her? She smiled at him. "My…you are so lost in thought you do not even know where you are this morning. To think that I allowed you to walk home alone in such a state!"

"Better that you had," he murmured as she joined him on the stones, "I promise." She slipped an arm through his and laughed again.

"You love to tease," she told him. "What captivated you so?"

"Never you mind," he insisted, covering her hand with his own and staring down at the ring he had given her.

"Please."

He sighed. "If you _must_ know, I was thinking of how beautiful you are…and how much I love you and cannot wait until we are married. But this I have already told you this morning, and we are nearly to the King's House." He raised her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Are we to find a suitable employment today," she giggled, raising her eyebrows at him, "or are we to sit about in each other's arms all day on Arwen's front porch?"

"I suppose it would not be good for us to grace their porch in that way," he said with a little smile, but he was captivated by her little giggle. "I thought we could help Gimli this morning, and then this afternoon perhaps head to the stable for a—"

"We cannot!" she cried suddenly, her eyes wide. "I _completely_ forgot that I have a dress fitting this afternoon at the tailor's!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "How could you forget that?"

"I just thought of it," she said, rather guilty. "Forgive me."

"I will…if I can come along," he said slyly.

She smacked his arm. "Absolutely _not_! What sort of surprise would that be on the day of the wedding if you were to see me in the dress now?"

"It would not be," he replied, tugging her to a halt as they reached the steps of the King's House. "That is the plan…why bother being surprised when I can enjoy the dress now?" Looking down into her eyes, he leaned very close to her. "You shall be so beautiful—"

"Legolas," she chided, " _no_. It is bad luck."

He groaned. "Please. I am sure there are _hundreds_ of men who have seen their brides in their dress before their wedding, and they have lived long happy—"

"But you will not be one of them." She lifted herself onto her toes, tugged her hands out of his, wrapped them around his neck, and kissed him. Leaning back and grinning at the expression on his face, she added, "And Arwen would kill me." He shook his head as she released him, taking his hand and tugging him up the steps with her, reaching for the door. "Come on. We should have breakfast before—" She stopped, looked confused, and Legolas took notice of it.

"What is it?"

"The door is…locked?" she hesitated, tugging on the door again. "It _is_ locked."

Legolas leaned forward and peered in the window. "Hmm…odd."

"Stop that!" she cried, pushing his arm, and blushing profusely. "You should not be looking in their—"

"Dear Ilúvatar, Enguina," he said, rolling his eyes, "they are not at _home_."

She stared at him as he turned. "They are not?"

"No, the King's House is empty, _moina_. They seem to be out." He smiled to himself. "And I can imagine several places where they might be."

"The stable?"

"Perhaps Aragorn has decided that today is a good day to withdraw from the Council," Legolas hypothesized. "We were just speaking this morning that we would like them to spend more time together. Perhaps they did just that."

Enguina blushed again, just a bit. "Do you think so?"

"I certainly hope so." He reached out and took her hand, raising his eyebrows. "Well, since we shall find no breakfast here, care for some muffins this morning?"

"Oh!" she suddenly smiled. "Yes, _please_!"

* * *

Arwen lay on her back in the soft grass, her arms above her head; she remained still, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and soaking as much of it into her skin as she possibly could. Aragorn lay beside her, worn out and fast asleep, his arm over her stomach, his hand resting comfortably against her ribs. His body was curled tightly against her right side, her every curve pressed in some way to his flesh—it felt _right_.

They had made love, several times, and it was slow and beautiful but every bit as physically difficult as she had expected it to be. No amount of taking their time, of preparation, had soothed those few moments of agony she had known were coming. She lowered her right arm and laid her hand against Aragorn's shoulder, dragging her fingers across the very recent nail marks she had left tattooed in his skin. She could not smile at them; she had made him bleed with how tightly she had held him.

Arwen turned her head and looked into his peaceful face. She had woken before him; today that was no surprise, but for him to be sleeping in the afternoon when the sun was so high… _that_ was. She thought of the way his hands had touched her, the way he had stroked her hair, held her close, felt her skin; she knew the way his heart had beat against her chest, its steady rhythm flooding her with the warmth and constancy of his love. Oh, to be blessed to love this man and to be loved _by_ him, this man who she loved more than life!

She could not say what woke him. Was it the tightening of her nails in his skin? Was it the way her breath caught beneath his arm? His grey eyes met hers; he blinked several times as she gently moved her fingers to his face where she could stroke the hair back from his brow.

"It is _late_ , my love," he whispered. "Yet, you are awake…and I was asleep."

"Awake now," she replied with a little smile. "It is far after noon. If we were to leave even this moment, we would not arrive in time to prepare dinner."

"Dinner…a thought long past."

"Do you think everyone knows where we are, beloved?" she whispered, and her breath caught as he lifted his arm and traced his fingers along her skin from her ribs all the way to her fingertips, entwining his hand with hers.

"They would have to be fools if they have not guessed by now," he muttered, trying to hold a conversation while being thoroughly distracted by her beauty, her skin, the way her hair had fallen down around her naked shoulders. He leaned further over her, and her eyes stared into his as he pressed his lips to hers and his other hand continued tracing other parts of her skin. "Your skin is so warm…" he murmured and just the way his breath caressed her face, the tone of his voice, made her tremble.

"Mmm," she replied, kissing him, massaging the fingers of her right hand against his scalp as his body molded around hers. Her fingers found his ear and continued their ministrations, rubbing the edge gently between her fingertips, and she watched his eyes close in utter bliss. She _loved_ to move him in passion.

"Arwen, _please_ …" His head lowered so that his brow was on her chin, his lips pressed against her throat as she continued the stroking of his ear. He felt her smile against his temple, felt one of her ankles cross over his.

"What, exactly, are you begging me for, beloved?" Her gasp caught him off guard as his other wandering hand found a very sensitive spot near her hip.

He struggled to form a coherent thought. "I thought you woke me…I thought…dinner…"

"Dinner was a thought long past," she groaned, quoting him as she pressed her hips against him, as she tried to move away from the hand that was making her squirm. But she did not release his ear. "So…" she continued breathlessly, "you are begging for freedom?"

"I can barely _think_ ," he said, forcing himself to lift his head. The pleasure of her hand was clear on his face as their eyes met. He watched her take her lower lip between her teeth as _she_ tried to escape _him_.

" _Aragorn_ … _Aragorn_ …" she whispered, "why think? _Forget_ thinking…please… _please_ …once more, before we return to the madness of our lives…let me feel sweet exhaustion with you."

He chuckled at her words as she lifted her head to kiss him, none too gently. "You have not ridden in months," he reminded her, but she refused to be swayed from her desire for him. "You will be exhausted before we even return home."

"Do not be rational…you cannot be reasonable when I feel like _this_."

She felt him swallow, and she knew where he was about to go. "Were you not in enough pain today, my love?" His hand settled on her hip, his thumb on her thigh, his other fingers tightening in their joined hands. "I can feel your hurt. That is difficult for me."

"Nothing could stop that…nothing _will_ stop it," she replied truthfully. "I will be sore," she continued and then winced, "I may call out again…and I may not be able to sit down the rest of the evening without some discomfort." As he opened his mouth, she kissed him…and then kissed him again, before sighing softly, blissfully, "And that is my choice. But, beloved, I am determined to make love with you one last time before we are forced to return."

"I…will be as gentle as I can," he murmured, "though I am reminded that it will not make any difference."

"It does," she whispered, rubbing his ear harder even as her own breathing was becoming difficult, "because you care for me." She was not even worried about it; in fact, she was so ready to love him that she welcomed it…and she would again and again. She desired to be one with him; he could see the passion in her eyes, feel it through their bond. His hand drifted along her skin.

"My love," he chuckled, "you may, someday, be the death of me."

He watched her eyes slowly close in pleasure and felt her fingers tighten on his ear. "You _will_ be the death of me," she whimpered, and she pressed herself to him even more closely. He tilted his head to kiss her soundly, and she made a sound low in her throat. " _Ilúvatar…Aragorn…_ " he felt her struggle a bit underneath him, "either stop _doing that_ or _…_ or _…please…_ "

He could not help but smile. "Or?"

" _Stop teasing me…_ " she begged, and her fingers tightened around his as her eyes rolled back into her head. He lowered his head to the soft skin of her throat and her fingers released his ear to curl into his hair, keeping his face close to her neck as he pressed his lips to her skin over and over. She gasped and he chuckled.

"Have you decided if I should stop?" he murmured, kissing across her collarbone and down the center of her chest.

"Uh…" she groaned, "more _please_. Do not… _do not make me beg._ "

"And to think…moments ago you had _me_ begging for mercy." She tried to tug her hand free from his, but all she was successful in doing was pressing her skin more firmly to his wandering lips.

"Please, let me touch you…let me touch you the way—"

"No," he told her, rubbing his nose against her chest, before moving his lips towards her breast. "Perhaps later; I am not removing my hands from you just now…or my mouth." He chuckled as she moaned again, softly, the muscles in her arm tensing beneath his. "Tell me what you want."

"You really _are_ going to make me beg," she nearly whined.

"You started this fire…you want this as much as I want to please you." She lifted her head and he stared into her eyes, "Tell me." His hand moved against her skin.

"Oh _god_ …" Her head fell back, her nails digging into his flesh and he smiled. He knew verywell what he was doing to her; she was so sensitive, and her lower abdomen was _well_ within his reach.

"Tell me…" he whispered into her skin.

" _Please_ …"

He wanted to laugh, but he could not; he knew how far gone she was. "I love when you are like this…so lost for words, so lost in love with me." He kissed along her breast and let his hand wander again, and her back arched off the grass as she pressed herself into his body. "Tell me, beloved."

"Make love with me," she gasped, her voice nearly lost in her throat, " _please_ …touch me, hold me, share yourself with me…" The last words tumbled out of her mouth as she bit her lower lip again, her mind flooded with the pleasure of his touch. "Aragorn," she whispered his name, "you are my sanctuary."

"And you are mine, beloved."

Eventually, they would _have_ to go back to the real world, but at the moment, he lost himself in her skin…and their love was the only reality either one of them wanted.

* * *

Faramir leaned his head back against the pillared door frame and gave a heavy-hearted sigh. Behind him, the voices of men bickering came to his ears and he closed his eyes in the attempt to shut them out. Leaning against this door frame was a habit of his from youth; many years ago, when he was a young boy, this was the place he would stand to wait for his father to come from the council chamber.

Of course, each time he had waited there, his father had passed him by as if he were a statue that needed no contemplation, never mind speech. Before his mother had died things had been different, but she, Eru bless her soul, had loved him best. The loss of love from his father after her death had been something he grew accustomed to after years in his experience…and yet, still he would wait there for him to pass him by, hoping that one day he might notice him as the son he once loved.

Faramir sighed once more; those were the old days when he was alone…except for Boromir. Boromir and he had many an adventure together; he, at least, knew his brother's feelings on the neglect Denethor showed one son and showered praise and glory to the other. Boromir and he knew each other well, and they had loved each other well, too. It was in times of reflection that he missed Boromir—times as this one. But then his mind always returned to his new brothers, Aragorn…and Éomer, Legolas and Gimli, and the love he had found in sweet Éowyn. What a delight he had found in Éowyn and how lucky he was that they were together. At times, he felt a flash of regret that Boromir would never meet Annî or the new baby that Éowyn was carrying. He still wished deep in his heart that they had an Uncle who would help the children grow, but he could certainly rest assured that they had many more role models that they could look up to.

And one of those named 'guardian' came to his mind right at the moment the council's arguing returned to his ears. He sighed loudly, frustrated, as his mind once more remembered why he had left their bickering. _What am I going to do with that man?_ It was nearly six in the evening, and yet no one could find him or the Queen. One would think it would not be too difficult to find two of the most worshipped people in all of Minas Tirith, but here he was, waiting for word from the guards on the details of their disappearance. Naturally, because he was a good friend of them both (and because he was no dolt!), he assumed they were together _and_ that they were more than likely _alone_. Gathering that this was indeed the case, there should have been no cause to worry—couples usually _did_ lose track of the time, and they had been awfully short on time lately—and though this was not the first time the two had vanished, it _was_ the longest.

Faramir, however, tried not to worry. Reasonable man, as he was so often told he was, he had spoken first to the friends of the King and Queen, and Legolas had quite joyously—if you could _sound_ joyous with your voice as soft as a whisper—informed him that the two were probably somewhere near the Anduin having some quite time. Faramir believed this was probably the case, and though he did not worry in so many words, the thought _had_ crossed his mind that one of them had fallen in… He hoped, nay, _prayed_ it was only that they had lost track of the time.

The sound of boots hitting upon marble reached Faramir's ears and he immediately raised his eyes. He smiled. The King was dressed in his riding clothes, which Faramir should have expected but it somehow was a surprise to him. It was also strange to him how the same man could look completely disheveled and utterly renewed at the same moment, but somehow, Aragorn pulled it off quite nicely. Faramir tried to turn his face serious, and as the older man drew nearer, the younger reached out and hit him in the shoulder, shaking his head.

"The King of the Realm should _not_ play hide-and-seek with the old men of the council. First, four and ninety years old is a little _too_ old for a such a child's game, and second, you gave the council _quite_ a worrisome day."

Aragorn looked at him with a smile as his eyes laughed. "They could do with the excitement of a lost King for several hours. Were _you_ worried, Faramir?"

Faramir grinned as he saw the set of his shoulders, the exhaustion there, yet delight in his eyes. "Of course not; I knew who had the correct information. I did wonder, but not worry. You were together then?"

"Yes," he answered. "I thank you for not sending for me near the Anduin."

"The Council wished to send guards to search for you, but I convinced them otherwise. I thought it would be unwise to leave them searching for you all day long."

"I thank you greatly for your convincing them to respect our retreat." He sighed softly, his eyes closing as he rested his head on the granite wall. "We needed the time."

"Time," he agreed softly with a sigh, "not something easily found these days." He knew these past few months had been very hard on his closest friends. He settled his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "But, you are right that you both needed it. Sometimes, I think you threw yourselves too hard back into your duties, but…perhaps that was for the best as well. It has been too long since I have seen both you and Arwen at peace. You seem renewed."

A smile appeared upon Aragorn's face. "We prayed together," he said as if that would explain it all. "It was a day filled…with the simple things in life. A rather perfect spring day."

Faramir smiled, and then sobered, thinking of the men arguing inside. He sighed. "They are not pleased with you, Aragorn. You know how they feel about your leaving, as I am sure you knew before you even went, as they never believe you should be out _riding_ , never mind being lost the whole day—"

Aragorn raised a hand, and Faramir fell to silence. "I know all of this, Faramir, and still I chose to remain out there with Arwen. The council is not _King_ , and so they do not understand the tight fit of such duties on a man who once was able to roam the Wilds on his own…or on a simple man who would like some time alone with his wife."

Faramir chuckled. " _I_ understand," and he nodded towards the chamber door, "but they are old and we are young—"

It was Aragorn's turn to chuckle. "No, Faramir, _you_ and Éowyn are young…Arwen and I, well, we are quite another story." The voices suddenly grew louder inside at a momentary disagreement and Aragorn sighed. "I suppose I must face them at one moment or another, and better tonight than tomorrow morning. I might as well get to it, and you should be getting home to supper with your family. You have sat in my stead for far too long today."

"Do not let them keep you all night," he chided the elder man, and Aragorn smiled.

"I will not…I _do_ need to get some rest," he replied, clasping Faramir's shoulder and turning toward the room. He entered the council chambers and as the door closed, Faramir could hear their voices:

 _Finally!_

 _Where were you?_

 _What happened, my Lord?_

 _Well, it is about time!_

Faramir shook his head but continued to walk away. If anyone could handle them and come out unscathed, it was Aragorn. He would be all right and home in no time at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Arwen heard the laughter on her front porch long before there came a knock on the door. There was a lantern lit in their window, so she knew that the lovers would know that someone, at least, was home in the King's House. Admitting to herself that she was moving rather slowly, she made her way to the door and opened it. She leaned her hip against the threshold, her dark hair pulled back in a simple knot to keep it from her face.

"Legolas and Enguina," she said softly, but she could not help smiling when she saw them laughing together. "It is a strange hour of evening to see you both on my porch."

Enguina raised her eyebrows. "It is a strange hour _indeed_ when _you_ arrive home after the supper hour! We were _starving_ —"

"Along with the dwarf," added Legolas.

"—and so we had to walk all the way over to Éowyn's for dinner!"

"Oh," she said, faking sympathy, "you poor _dears_."

"What happened to 'the King's House will always be open?'" said Legolas with a knowing smile.

"Where have you _been_ all day?" Enguina asked with a sudden frown. "We missed having dinner with you here."

She smiled. "Oh…out and about. Are you coming in?" Arwen stepped back from the door to accommodate them, and Enguina slipped through the doorway.

"Out and about?" quoted Enguina slyly, but Arwen ignored her, waiting by the door for Legolas to enter. When he reached the threshold, he paused, looking into her face.

"Is Aragorn not here?"

"He…thought it best to stop in at Ecthelion," Arwen admitted. "The Council was in session today, and…they had been expecting him."

"Ah yes," he replied, sighing, "Annî was complaining about Faramir missing dinner as he was taking Aragorn's place. Not to worry though; Éowyn was very forgiving." He gave her a teasing smile.

Arwen smiled back at him, though hers was a bit tired. "That is good of her, as always."

"I was looking to speak with him briefly, though. Perhaps I could do all of us a favor and head over to Ecthelion myself? They would excuse him if I were to interrupt."

She looked so relieved at his suggestion that he knew immediately he would go. "Would you, Legolas? I would be eternally grateful," she said with sincerity.

"I will go and claim him," he vowed, and reached around Arwen to tap up Enguina's chin with a finger. "Guin, would you mind staying here? I have something I wish to discuss with Aragorn, and I am sure Arwen would welcome the company. Then we shall finish our walk."

She smiled. "If your ears begin to ring, it is because I was speaking about you."

He laughed. "Oh, without a doubt I shall be the subject of a few moments' conversation at least! Enjoy yourselves at my expense, I beg you." He leaned over swiftly then and kissed her, releasing her chin as he turned back to Arwen. "I will not be long."

"Not with such a promise to return to," she agreed, and in a moment, she had closed the door behind him. Turning to Enguina, she raised her eyebrows. "Tea?"

"Please. Do you have some made, or can I help you?"

"The tea is made, but the cups are not ready. Would you mind? Then we can sit on the balcony; it is a beautiful evening."

It only took them a few moments before they were outside, seated and sipping their tea. It _was_ a beautiful night, pleasantly cool after the unusually warm day both of them had enjoyed. They had been sitting in companionable silence for a few moments before Enguina decided to break it. Arwen looked out over the city, and she studied her before she made comment or asked question. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Arwen broke the silence first.

"How was your day, Enguina?" She turned to look at her, giving her a smile. "Were you and Legolas on the fourth level working today?"

Enguina nodded, grinning back. "Yes, with Gimli. We had an interesting time, as I spent much of it chasing around several children and Legolas spent part of the morning bickering with Gimli's kin. They are so stubborn! And then I made my way to the tailor's—"

Arwen gasped and looked abashed. "That is right! I forgot about your _dress_ fitting! Ilúvatar, I am dull!"

Enguina laughed. "No, you are not! You were out all day."

"Well, how was it? Do you like the dress?"

Her eyes sparkled. "It is the most beautiful dress I have ever laid eyes on, and have ever put on my own body. It is absolutely wonderful; when Legolas sees it—"

"He will never, ever look at another woman ever again," Arwen laughed softly, shifting her weight towards her left side and trying not to look uncomfortable about it.

"After the dress fitting, I met him outside, even though he had _begged_ me to come in, I told him no. I thought perhaps we would head out for a ride after that, but I was so tired by that point…last night did not afford me much sleep, so we headed back to the guesthouse for an afternoon nap and then—"

"The dream again," she said softly, frowning. Enguina frowned as well.

"They are…so frequent. Last night it was Dagnirhir, Calendur…" She shook her head. "If Legolas had not been there—"

"He was there?" she asked, and Enguina's eyes narrowed a bit.

"There is something in your tone…" Enguina began, but drifted off, watching Arwen's face.

"I am…I did not mean to sound surprised," she added rather quickly. "I only meant—"

"You are frowning on me," Enguina insisted, looking hurt. "It was not as though he slept in my _bed_ , Arwen." She said the last a bit nastily and Arwen winced.

"Enguina, _please_ , let me explain. I do not care if Legolas spends every single night by your bed if it helps you not to have another nightmare," she answered. "To be honest, I—"

"As long as he is not _in_ my bed."

"That…was not what I was going to express at all—"

"You need not worry about it," Enguina said firmly as she rose from her chair, stuttering out the last few words. "I would be…I would be too afraid anyway." Arwen immediately reached out and caught her hand.

"Dear Heavens, Enguina…do not be so _defensive_. I _know_ you!" Arwen insisted. "I would never question you in such a way, with such a _thing_! Why would you…why would you think that?" Enguina hesitated, and when Arwen knew she was not going to answer, she continued. "In fact, I was _about_ to say that I did not think you were particularly happy at one point with sharing those dreams with Legolas. I was surprised because I did not think you would allow him to be there when they took place."

Enguina sighed. "Forgive me…I leapt at your throat for no reason. I simply…Legolas made a comment this morning about others judging us because he was coming from the guesthouse at an unreasonable time, and I just…I thought 'now you, too?' I am sorry I was upset."

"Enguina, you know that I would never—"

"I do," she replied. "And you were right about the dreams; I did not want him to know…but I dreamed on the return journey when Legolas came to rescue me and he…easily found out about them." She shrugged, embarrassed. "There was nothing I could do to hide from him out there in the middle of nowhere with no one around, and when, most of the evenings, I was sleeping in his arms already. Right or wrong, he held me…and I needed it." She sighed. "After spending nearly a week in them, it was quite difficult to return to…what should I call it? Normal life?"

Arwen gave her a little smile. "Come sit down with me again, and do not be so easily flustered. No one is judging you; most certainly not me. We have known each other too long." She hesitated and then frowned. "Would you like to sit out here on your own? I would not wish to hinder you at all from any rest you might take—"

"This is good enough," she said, shaking her head. "I am enjoying your company. You have been gone all day! Will you say nothing of it?"

Arwen looked into Enguina's sincere face. What _could_ she say of it? "Asfaloth has been begging me for ages to ride, and…it was time. Aragorn and I rode today all along the Anduin and enjoyed every moment we spent together. It has been some time since we took a day just for ourselves."

"It was a beautiful day," she agreed. "As I said earlier, I would have been out as well if I had not been so tired this afternoon." She sighed and watched Arwen shift her body weight for the umpteenth time and she gave her a little smirk and began to tease her. "You seem to be struggling a bit yourself," she added, grinning at her. "Having trouble sitting down?"

Arwen blushed furiously, and Enguina's surprise did not even have time to show before the younger elf then cringed. "To be honest… _yes_ , I am quite uncomfortable, and if you would be a dear and hand me that pillow on the other side of you, I would be very grateful."

Enguina stared at her a moment, but she had enough presence of mind to reach behind her and hand Arwen the pillow in another moment. Arwen slipped the pillow directly beneath herself and leaned back in the chair again, only looking slightly more comfortable. Enguina grinned widely and raised an eyebrow. "What is _this_? The great rider, the one who used to ride for _hours_ is _saddle-sore_?" she laughed. "This is too much!"

"I am—" Arwen began to reply hotly, but bit her lower lip to keep from snapping at her friend and then suddenly brought her hand to her mouth.

"Did you just…" Enguina asked, leaning forward and staring. "You _did_! You split your lip! How in the world—" She giggled. "Oh Eru, tell me you fell! That would be simply ridiculous!"

"I did not _fall!_ " Arwen replied, gritting her teeth but then sucking the blood off her lip. "And I am _not_ saddle-sore and I _did_ bite down on my lip… several times today in fact." As she continued to speak, the blush on her cheeks grew darker. "And you…should probably not ask foolish questions you really do not want to hear the answer to."

"Oh no, I _want_ to hear," she teased, grinning and pulling her leg up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. "You are _terribly_ embarrassed, which means there is a great story in this day somewhere!"

"Enguina, I really do not think—"

"I _need_ to know. You have to tell me…I am your second oldest friend, and there is no one here but us. You simply _must_ tell me. What did you do?"

" _Enguina_ …" she groaned in reply.

"I will not _tell_ anyone! It is only between us two! Why are you so embarrassed? Why are you so uncomfortable?"

"All _right_ ," Arwen sighed, closing her eyes, "Aragorn and I spent the…entire day…down on the banks of the Anduin."

"And…so you are sore from the riverbank? You are the _worst_ liar!" Enguina was nearly chortling now. "You are unbelievable. You actually think I am going to hear that story and believe it?"

This time, Arwen really groaned aloud, opening her eyes and giving an exasperated sigh. "How specific must I be with you? We spent the day in each other's arms…I am sore because…from…I am sore from lying with him after not having done so in so long. Therefore…I am uncomfortable and require the use of this pillow."

Enguina's eyes were fixed on her nearly a full five seconds before she could even come up with a response, and even then it was not very intelligible. "What…you…oh, _Ilúvatar_ …I thought you meant…" Her face blushed crimson and she turned her face away. "Forgive me! That was _so_ inappropriate!"

Arwen wanted to laugh at Enguina, but she felt a bit sorry for her. "I tried to warn you that there were some questions you really did not want to know the answer to…that you really should _not_ know the answers to. At least," she added, looking down at her mug, "not right now. Two months before your own wedding…"

Enguina looked back at her. "Why are you…sore?"

"This…is really not something we should be discussing right now; not quite appropriate for your ears—"

"I _am_ older than you," Enguina pointed out, crossing her arms. "And I could probably guess if I wanted."

"Guess away," she replied softly, "I need not answer."

"That is cruel."

"Cruel has nothing to do with it. There are things you _should_ know, Enguina…but only when the time is right." She shook her head. "Stop asking me questions like that."

Enguina hesitated. "Arwen…answer me seriously. Are you in pain?"

"At the moment, no…but this chair is not helping," she admitted, sighing, "and I am _tired_. I have no idea how Aragorn is surviving with the Council. He _must_ be asleep at the table right now." She gave a wry smile. "Neither one of us have the stamina we had before I…became ill."

But Enguina's mind was trapped on her other words. "Aragorn… _physically_ hurt you?" she asked, looking horrified.

"Enguina—"

" _Unforgivable,_ " Enguina muttered and stood, reaching towards the door.

"Where exactly are you going?" Arwen asked as she caught her arm. Enguina whirled on her, eyes narrowing. "Enguina, what is the matter?"

"The matter? The matter is with _you_! No man, not even your _husband_ , has the right to be so _rough_ and—" She made a disgusted sound in her throat. "How _dare_ he use you in such a way!"

"Enguina, stop this," Arwen sighed. "That is not what happened; you are overreacting."

"But _you_ said—"

"Yes, but not because…Enguina, dear _Ilúvatar_ , I should not be discussing this with you…not right now. I cannot even think about what I am _saying_ I am so tired," she said, shaking her head. "Please, just calm down…and _sit_ down. _Aragorn_ does not _use_." She was horrified at the word. "I do not ever want to hear you say that again."

"Are you going to explain?" Enguina asked, sitting back down on the very edge of the chair and looking up into Arwen's face.

"Not as much as you probably would like," she admitted, but watched Enguina twist her hands back and forth in her lap. "Why are you fretting? I am _fine_ ; wonderful even…clearly I am fine."

"Tell me why you hurt, and perhaps I will stop worrying," she muttered.

Arwen took her hands. "This is going to be a far more uncomfortable conversation for you than for me, and I am _not_ going into detail. Let me explain this: when a man and a woman lie with each other," she said softly, "it can often be…uncomfortable in the beginning…or after a long time when you have not been together."

Enguina flinched and then blushed. "So…he did not mean to hurt you."

"No, of course not," she continued. "Aragorn is…" She swallowed as she thought of his hands on her that afternoon and wondered if Enguina could hear her pounding heart. "He is the best of men."

"You keep saying that…yet, I still continue to try to find ill with him," she sighed, "even after learning firsthand how good of a man he is. You will have to forgive my… _overreaction._ "

Arwen leaned forward suddenly and kissed her hands. "You were worried for me. I understand that, but Aragorn and I love each other and…we are fine. In fact, I would not hesitate to say that we are better than ever." Arwen smiled at her, released her hands back into her lap, and turned to lean her hip against the balcony, staring out into the evening sky.

"You seem…so content," Enguina said softly, "as though all the troubles of the world were made right because of today."

"Not everything," Arwen replied, looking down at her hands resting on the rail, thinking briefly of the child she was missing, "but I find that spending a day with Aragorn and Ilúvatar helps me center myself…even if I am exhausted afterwards."

"I want that peace."

Arwen glanced at her and gave her a mischievous smile. "You will have it…a few short weeks is all you must wait."

"Arwen…when you are around Aragorn, do you feel… _strange_?"

"Strange?" Arwen asked, puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"Strange…odd… _off…_ "

She shook her head. "No, if anything, I feel as though there is more balance when Aragorn is with me, beside me. Why do you ask such a thing?"

"So you feel…balanced?" Enguina asked, looking a bit nervous.

"Enguina, talking to you is so…so _frustrating_ sometimes!" Arwen laughed. "Speak your mind! If I cannot answer your question appropriately, I will tell you so."

"When I am with Legolas I feel as though I cannot keep my feet beneath me…as though I am in danger of being swept away by…by…" she stumbled over her words, trying to figure out what exactly the feeling was. "I do not know _what_ it is! I am more in love with him every moment we spend together." She looked at her guiltily. "How can I explain? I feel _odd_ …I do not want to be without him. I want him at my side; yes, even at night when I…when I should _not_. Eru in Heaven, I am so confused! I do not know what this is…this…this growing need to be beside him…"

She looked up at Arwen. "And you say that what you feel around Aragorn is peace…and what I feel when I am near Legolas anymore is…is… _turmoil._ I feel awkward, as though I hold onto his hand longer than I should, or keep my arms around his neck and not want to let go. I feel like I am blushing all over; his touch anymore is like a lightning current. Our…" she blushed crimson and had to look away to her twisting fingers, "kisses are getting…longer…more…"

Arwen reached between her hands, effectively stilling them as she gingerly sat beside her again. "Intimate?"

Enguina blushed more furiously, unable to respond.

"Let me…explain something to you," Arwen said gently. "What you are feeling _is_ confusing. What you are feeling is desire."

"No," she said, shaking her head immediately. "No, I… _cannot_ be. I do not—I _will_ not think of Legolas like that!" She stood up, yanking her hands away and crossing her arms, turning her back to Arwen. "It is… _wrong._ "

"It is _not_ wrong."

Enguina whirled around. "How can you say that when you _know_ where desire landed _me_ , Arwen? He kept telling me that…how much he _desired_ me, that he _wanted_ me. If it was not for his irrational _desire_ , I would not be having these dreams!" Tears formed in her eyes as she flung up her hands. "I would not feel this way! I would not feel so _afraid_."

"Enguina, desire is not wrong," she said softly, even to the other elf's raised voice. "Desire is _natural_. Let me _explain_ …let me help you."

"How?" she asked, gritting her teeth. "How can you help me?"

"I felt the same desire you feel, but for Aragorn. I felt…warm…almost feverish when I was with him. Sometimes, I _still_ feel that way. After we became engaged, I only saw him very seldom, for he traveled in the hope of stamping out as much evil as is possible for one man. But when we were together, Enguina…when we were together I worshipped him, adored him. There were moments when I wanted to share everything with him—"

"But you _did_ share everything with him," Enguina insisted. "You knew each other and you were in love—"

"But that was not enough," she admitted. "I remember there were days when just the touch of his fingertips against my skin made me feel as though I was entirely on fire." She gave Enguina a rueful smile. "Yes, Enguina, I have felt desire as you do. I know what you are feeling."

"And it is not…wrong?"

"No…but, it is a struggle to handle in an appropriate way. We have been taught, Enguina, that our bodies are sacred; that they should be treated with reverence and…that a woman should give herself to one man, the man she would spend her life with, after bound to him in Ilúvatar's eyes. You, who are engaged to be married to Legolas, simply need to accept that you _do_ desire him…and there is nothing wrong with that desire, or you, for that matter. We may be elves, but our passions run deep."

"I…have never felt this way before."

"You have never been in love," Arwen admitted. "You are feeling the desire to be near him always, to never be apart, to have him beside you…and yes, even to share yourself physically with him."

Enguina swallowed hard. "I never thought I would ever want that…to be with someone like that…not after…" her voice drifted off and she chewed on her lip. "If what you say is true, and I _do_ desire Legolas…then how do I wrestle with the other feelings?"

"Other feelings?"

"I may desire him…but…" she hesitated, blushed, and then forced her words out, "I am absolutely terrified of him."

"What?"

She sighed, frustrated. "Well not… _of_ him, exactly…but of lying with him…yes, I am terrified." She felt Arwen take her hands again. "I often think forward to that wedding night that is not so far off and I see myself… _freezing_ in terror…and then having to explain myself, which would be awful and completely ridiculous, and then not being able to—"

"Enguina, Enguina," Arwen said, squeezing her hands again, "will you…permit me to give you some more truth?"

She looked into Arwen's serious face and made her decision. "I suppose so."

"First, I was terrified, too. No, I did not come from a situation such as yours," she added softly, "but even though I desired Aragorn, I was afraid. Fear of the unknown is as natural as desire." She sighed and Enguina noticed her preparing herself.

"What? What is it? Just say it."

"To avoid the… _fear_ that you are worried you will face on your wedding night…you…somewhere between now and the wedding, you need to tell Legolas the truth."

"The—? No, I cannot."

"Enguina," she said, forcing Enguina's hands to remain in hers, "Legolas adores you, loves you. If you just told him, he would understand. His love is not going to stop because of that truth." She looked into her face, speaking softly, but sincerely, "You were taken against your will, Enguina."

"I…I know…" She _did_ know. She had accepted that over the past three months of living in Minas Tirith. But… "Arwen…that does not change the facts. When you gave yourself to Aragorn, when you wed him, you were whole and pure and…when I give myself to Legolas…I…I…will not be. It is not the same."

"Yes, you will," she told her gently. "You will because for the first time in your life, you will be giving yourself to the man of your choice in the sight of Ilúvatar alone…and with his blessing. That _matters_."

Enguina looked up and met her eyes, tears in hers again. "I want so _badly_ to believe that."

"Let me…let me pray for you?" Enguina fell silent and turned her head away, and Arwen bowed her head low over Enguina's hands, pressing her forehead to them. "Father," she whispered, "I seek your face. You know my heart, and you see what is in dear Enguina's. She has cried out to you, as I have so many times, to take away this pain she feels, this grief and burden that she carries. She needs you to help her; she needs you to guide her thoughts away from the one who did this to her and focus on the one who cares for her more than anything in the world. You have given her Legolas to have life and joy, and to celebrate abundantly, rejoicing in you.

"Enguina needs you to guide her, and to give her strength and words. Help her to understand that the man she loves is understanding and faithful. Help her to understand that she can trust you to take care of her, to give you her pain. Help her to understand that what she will experience with Legolas, what you have blessed, will be more than she ever imagined. Help her to rejoice in what she has, rather than in the past, as you have shown me today. I bless your name."

Both were silent for a moment and Enguina reached up to wipe her eyes. "Eru showed you to rejoice in what you have today?" she asked softly, and Arwen gave her a smile; she knew out of everything else she had said in her prayer that Enguina would ask about the one thing that would take the focus from her.

"Ilúvatar has been reminding me of that more and more recently," Arwen admitted as Enguina met her eyes. "I…have wasted too much of the last two months, Enguina. I have been living, but I am still living in the shadow of loss; it…is difficult, sometimes, to focus on something other than that loss. My love for Aragorn is a beacon in that shadow. Days like today make me…they bring me hope."

She smiled. "The best of men."

Arwen returned it and then pointed behind Enguina and said frankly, "Can I have that other pillow behind you, dear?"

Enguina burst out laughing, but as she handed Arwen the pillow she noticed the younger elf did not even blush. She was in a better mood already.

* * *

Legolas walked right up the front steps of Ecthelion, crossed the White Hall, and began climbing the stairs to the first conference chamber. He knew where to find his friend, and though he was eager to speak with him, he was just as eager to return to Enguina and finish their walk. He smiled to himself, fixed her face before him, and entered the council chamber.

"Prince Legolas!" laughed Dintîr, waving a hand and leaning back in his chair. "To what do we owe the honor?"

Legolas smiled at him and bowed his head as the majority of men turned to look at him. Most of the councilmen appeared to be in good humor at the moment; after the incident with Gildion in late January, they favored him. "My Lords, I have come to claim the King for the rest of the evening. I think he has been out late enough."

Some of the men chuckled, but it was, once again Dintîr who responded. "He only just arrived!"

Aragorn laughed and stood. "I believe the elf is correct. I will see you all in the morning; we have been here late enough."

Legolas was a bit surprised at the ease in which everyone accepted that the King was leaving and that it was time to call it an evening. He found himself then, not five minutes later, walking down the front steps of Ecthelion with Aragorn. The man immediately turned to Legolas as soon as they hit the flat stones and caught the elf's arm—everyone else was still inside.

"Is everything all right?"

"Of course," he replied soothingly. "I simply wanted to speak with you, and I thought rescuing you was a nice touch. It also creates good standing with your wife…and I will probably need it after tomorrow."

"After tomorrow?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "I think you have a bit of explaining to do."

"I will try to be short. First," he said, steering him toward the garden, "your day. Arwen looked exhausted, as do you." He gave the man a smile. "But for the first time in weeks, there was no tension in her face, and the muscles in your shoulders are loose. That is a good sign." He clapped Aragorn on the shoulder and the man ducked under the light blow.

"As much as there is no tension," Aragorn chided him, nearly shoving him into the hedgerow, "there are marks from a day like today that need not be prodded. I thank you for the congratulations, but, please…do not touch me."

Legolas held up his hands and laughed. "Fair enough, though I think there is a story to be had at some point."

"You shall understand on your own well enough without my help," he replied, shaking his head. "If you truly want to know, ask Faramir; I am not one to discuss such…delicate subjects. Some things are meant to be private, yes?"

"Indeed," he said, laughing again, "and I think such tales would _definitely_ be better coming from you than from Faramir. He may not know what to stop telling!" He smiled at Aragorn. "But I am very glad that you and Arwen are once again at peace."

He nodded. "I…should not have let it go on so long. I shall know better next time."

"There will never be a next time." Aragorn said nothing to it, but nodded again. Legolas decided to let it go. "So…I know that Enguina has spent a few evenings at your House recently."

"Yes," he replied, "though that is no secret, considering you have been at the House in the morning after several of those occasions."

"I have been…thinking. These nightmares she is having are becoming progressively more frequent. I have been present when she has had two over the course of one night." He shook his head. "I have known her since December, and have barely spent enough time in her company, yet I can see this."

Aragorn thought a moment and nodded. "I agree."

"They are also becoming progressively worse. She is…going to you more than she has been coming to me," he said simply. "She goes to you when she does not know where else to turn." He looked away from Aragorn's face. "When she thinks I cannot handle it; when she thinks I cannot care for her."

Aragorn laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "No," he said softly, "she knows that you will care for her, protect her…but she cannot face you with this." Legolas looked at him, confused. "You need to give her more time."

"I…I would give her forever, but it hurts me to see her in pain. I…am to be her husband. Should she not trust me?"

"Legolas, you know that there are things in my past that have happened either to me or to others I have known, things I would never describe to Arwen… _ever_. Does this mean I do not trust her? Of course not; it simply means that there are some things that she should never know."

"So…you are trying to say that Enguina is seeking to protect me?" Legolas asked.

"That may be part of it; another part of it may be that she does not know how to talk to you about it; another part may be that she is afraid. I do not know, but I _do_ know that you need to continue to have patience for it…and for her."

"I love her. I will wait forever for her to tell me if necessary." Aragorn tried to smile but to Legolas it seemed a bit grim.

"You may have to."

The elf sighed, and Aragorn could hear the frustration in his tone. "Why is it that—forget it. I suppose I should tell you the reason I brought up Enguina's nightmares."

"Because you are worried."

"Yes," he admitted, "but aside from that, the wedding moves closer every day. I think that perhaps the reason she is not resting well is that she is under a lot of stress."

"What do you propose?"

"A break. Not to postpone the wedding either," he insisted, "but to stop her planning of it for a little while. We have a little less than two months left; I think it should not be any more stress to finish it later. So, I suggest we take a little time, head to Ithilien, and begin scouting out a place to live."

"How long?" asked Aragorn, surprised to hear his words. "How long will you be gone?"

"No more than a month, but I assume less than that. A nice little trip in the middle of wedding plans should be _soothing_ …not stressful. It will give her time to think, time to collect herself, to breathe…to spend more time alone with _me_." He added the last with a chuckle and saw Aragorn smile.

"Perhaps you are right," he replied as they turned out of the garden's rows and began making their way back toward the King's House. "The dreams are…"

"Getting worse," Legolas interrupted, frowning. "She needs this, as much as I want to take her."

"Will you be going alone?"

Legolas hesitated, glancing at the man's face. "Do you have a suggestion?"

"I was thinking perhaps you could take Faramir with you," he said. "I doubt Éowyn would let him go alone, and I am not certain it is a good idea for her to be journeying at this stage of her pregnancy, but they would provide some…" Aragorn seemed to be searching for the word, and Legolas smiled.

"Supervision?"

Aragorn stopped at the bottom of the steps to the King's House and looked at him seriously. "If I thought you needed supervision, I would tell you not to make such a journey in the first place."

Legolas looked a bit guilty and sighed. "It is getting more and more difficult to let her go at night, to return home to the house with Gimli. But I know my place."

"Of course you do, Legolas. No one would ever think otherwise." He moved forward. "You will be safe, I am sure, and Ithilien will be beautiful this time of year. Were you…seeking my advice?"

Legolas shrugged very slowly. "Part advice, part blessing, I suppose. I was hoping you were not going to tell me I was mad for thinking this might help."

"No, not mad…and you very well may be right. Perhaps it _is_ just what she needs." He smiled suddenly. "And I _do_ very much thank you for rescuing me. I am exhausted, just as you said."

"Let us go inside then, and I will claim Enguina so that the two of you might rest." The two of them headed inside where they found Arwen and Enguina in the kitchen, both with their heads resting on their arms, half-full mugs of tea near them. Legolas laughed, shaking his head. "I suppose we took too long."

"I am not asleep," Enguina muttered, yawning and then sitting up. Arwen did not move.

"I am," she whispered, and Aragorn went to her side, reaching down to stroke her hair and face.

"That is all right," he said with a smile. "Legolas has come to walk Enguina home, so neither one of you needs to entertain anymore."

"We were not succeeding in doing that anyway," Enguina said, stretching and then rising to take Legolas's hand, even as she looked to Aragorn. "Arwen said you had a nice ride today; I am sorry we missed the beautiful weather ourselves."

"I am sure there will be more opportunities," he said, glancing down at Arwen who still had not moved. "Are you not going to say goodnight, beloved?" There was total silence in response.

Enguina smiled. "Take her to bed, Aragorn. She is exhausted."

"Good night, both of you," Legolas said gently. "We shall see you in the morning."

"Good night," he replied, and the two elves headed out the front door before he moved to slowly scoop Arwen into his arms. She groaned softly into his chest as her head lolled against his shoulder and she wrapped an arm up and around his neck.

"I am usually the one with all the energy," she murmured. "How is it that you can carry me at all? You must be as worn out as I am."

He smiled. "I am, but you are very light. How do you feel aside from tired?"

"Oh…I think sorer than I expected," she admitted, opening her eyes to watch his face.

"I… _did_ try to warn you."

"We did let loose a little bit," she muttered, blushing as he smiled. "We had several months to account for."

"This is a beautiful look on you as I carry you to our bed."

"Dear Ilúvatar, Aragorn…I will be dead in an hour if—"

"I only tease," he whispered, lying her down on their bed. "Are you that uncomfortable? Can I get you something…anything? Were you drinking herbs in that tea to relieve some of your pain?"

She laughed softy as she looked into his face. "I had to ask Enguina to give me some pillows to sit on. We had a…brief, but interestingly uncomfortable conversation."

"For you?" he said with a chuckle.

"No, for her."

"Mmm…embarrassing for both of you, I am sure."

"Not as bad as I expected, though she did ask a few questions that I am not sure I was prepared to answer." She felt his hands on the front of her dress. "Beloved, are you undressing me?"

"Stop that," he said, laughing. "You need to get out of these clothes, and you are being awfully lazy about doing it yourself." He listened to her sigh loudly, smiling to himself. "If you are going to change, then I will leave you to it."

"No…I am fine with allowing you to remove my clothes. It allows me to lie here _and_ to be near you at the same time." She watched him as he undid her dress; there was no hurry in his movements. He took his time and slipped it from her. She had to sit up for him to slip the nightgown over her head, and by the time she had reached over to pull down the covers, he was changed and enfolding her into his arms. Cuddling back into him, she moaned softly, dragging her fingers lazily back and into his hair tangling and untangling her fingers in it.

What is it?" he asked, and she could feel his love for her pour through their bond.

"Can my every waking moment be full of this much bliss?" she murmured. "I have so much peace because of you. Everything is all right because I am in your arms again." She covered his hands with her own as her eyes closed, feeling his breath on her skin. "God, I would make love to you again right now, this moment, no matter how sore I am."

He lowered his lips against her neck. "Then you _would_ be the death of me _,_ beloved."

"How are your shoulders?" she asked softly.

"Tolerable," he whispered, and it was her turn to laugh.

"Oh, we are a pair, are we not?"

"I love the way you hold on to me," he told her, "the way you lose yourself for those few moments, unable to catch your breath, the way you tremble against me as I hold you so tight…the way you give yourself to me completely."

"As you do to me," she whispered back as he pressed his cheek to hers. She was silent for so long that he thought perhaps she had fallen asleep like that. "Aragorn, before I collapse from exhaustion, I do need to ask you something." Her voice was a murmur, but the question sounded as though she was focused on it for a reason.

"Yes, love?"

"There were questions in Enguina's eyes tonight," she whispered, "past sorrows…past hurts. You know what our wedding night was like—"

"Perfect," he said in her ear, kissing it gently. She smiled.

"Yes, but…there are some things that I think could have been made easier if we had only known about them; if someone had _told_ me what might happen or…if my Father could have spoken to me…if my Mother had prepared me…" He felt her face grow warm against his cheek. "It was a difficult time for me, for us. Enguina already has…enough difficulties to overcome…and I thought…well…I thought…"

"You have my blessing," he whispered, tugging her more closely against him.

"There are many things, Aragorn, that are ours… _only_ ours…and they will always stay that way. But I think there are some things I could tell her that might help her prepare or help her be more at ease with Legolas."

"That we had to discover on our own," he agreed, and she heard the sheepishness in his voice. She knew, that even in all his journeying, he had been as unprepared for that first time as she had.

"We did all right that first night," she replied softly, "after we rose above our fears and…all those supposed expectations." She shook her head. "Ilúvatar, if I had only known how _wonderful_ it would be…if I only knew then what I know now…" She felt his hands tighten around her and she smiled. "How I love you," she said gently. "If I had only trusted you with myself in those first moments, so much fear could have been tossed aside; even desiring those moments, desiring _you_ , had not prepared me for loving you."

"Mmmm," he murmured. "Tell her what you need to. I would not begrudge her anything if it would help her, ease her."

"You…need to tell Legolas," she whispered back, her fingers stroking against his face. He could feel the heat of her beneath his cheek again; even if it embarrassed her, she would do anything to help her dearest friend. "You need to tell him about—"

"I will…gently," he said softly, "and without great detail. Though, Legolas may already know more than I think; we have never…had reason to discuss anything of the kind. And _you_ , beloved, should feel no shame."

"I know…" she replied, sighing, "and I know it may make this easier on both of them." There was a bit of silence then. They were both tired.

"To sleep?" he whispered then and she nodded, settling even closer against his chest as he dragged the sheet over both of them.

* * *

Legolas walked slowly along the path towards the guesthouse with Enguina's arm in his. She held on to him and smiled out into the night; he knew she was tired, so even though he wanted to talk with her for a little while longer, he was taking the shortest way to her home. She was still in a good mood, though a bit more subdued than she had been when he had left her at the House. He wondered how she would accept that he wanted to take her away from here for a few weeks. Looking down into her face, even as tired as she was, she was still so beautiful. He sighed.

She looked up at him. "What is it?" she asked. He gave her a little smile.

"I want to do something for you," he told her honestly, covering her hand with his own. "I want to take away these nightmares you are having."

Enguina looked away from his eyes. She was ashamed of them; she always had been, and she always would be. "No one can do that, Legolas," she said softly, shaking her head as her hand tightened on his arm. "Not even Ilúvatar has seen fit to do that."

He hesitated, and then plowed onward, as was his way. "If I could force them, even for a short time, would you do it? Would you _let_ me do it?"

She lifted her head and eyed him suspiciously. "Not if it required a sacrifice on your part."

"No sacrifice," he said. "In fact, it would be something I would tremendously enjoy doing."

She gave him a smirk at the sound of his words. "Is this going to end up being something such as, you shall rub my shoulders every night before bed? Because you know very well that is not going to work out well for either one of us."

He grinned at her teasing, even as he blushed. "No, this is a much more practical idea. I think that your dreams are because of your stress. I think the wedding is applying pressure in ways we never intended or expected…and so the dreams are becoming more frequent and lasting longer." Her eyes grew haunted, even as he spoke, and he knew immediately that he was doing the right thing for them both.

"What…what do you want to do?" she asked, and she appeared a bit stunned, as though she had not expected him to notice they were worse or longer. "You do not mean…you cannot mean to cancel the wedding." As the words left her mouth, she looked even more horrified.

"Dear Ilúvatar, no! No, no! I want to marry you more than I want anything else in the _world_ , Guin," he told her earnestly. "I simply think we need to do something that involves no stress."

"You must have something in mind then."

"As a matter of fact…I do. I think we should take a short trip…perhaps two, maybe even three weeks, into Ithilien. We are going hunting for our new home," he offered.

Immediately, her mind flashed with a hundred thoughts! _Two weeks!_ Two weeks of travel at least…when they had a wedding to plan and design and make in less than two months? Two weeks of traveling in the wilderness with Legolas when _anything_ could happen? Two weeks of searching for a place that would be perfect for them to plan a home, a place where they could raise their children, and have his kindred…and live in peace?

"When is your father due to arrive?" she asked suddenly. Already, in her head, she could see herself lying in Legolas's arms beneath the stars of Ithilien, listening to the sound of the crickets and the horses' breathing, feeling the touch of the grass beneath her. They were nearly to the guesthouse.

"He is not expected until mid-May, and we will be back long before then," he answered. "I think that two weeks away from this madness, two weeks to get back to the peace of where we belong, might be just what you need."

They stopped at the bottom of the steps and she looked up into his face. "You do not think it will only place more stress on us at the end, to rush and have everything ready?"

"I think," he said, reaching a hand up to stroke her cheek, "that we will be more relaxed. Both of us will because you will be having fewer nightmares."

"You are very worried about me."

"Terribly, as a matter of fact," he replied sincerely.

"That is…nice of you to worry," she said softly, and though he knew she was teasing him, in a very real way he knew that she appreciated the fact that he cared for her so much.

"So…what do you think of the idea?"

"I hope that your thoughts on my dreams are right," she replied. "I hope they are only stress-induced and not…something else." She hesitated and then continued. "I love the idea of traveling with you again; taking our time, enjoying ourselves…searching for a home. It sounds so nice. When do we leave?"

He laughed, swinging her hand from his arm and up to his lips to kiss it. "Tomorrow, if you like!"

"Perhaps Monday?" she said. "A day for our friends to get used to the idea."

He smiled. "Would you prefer it be only us, or shall we invite Faramir and Éowyn? They shall be building in Ithilien as well. Perhaps we could invite them."

"I am…perfectly content with having company," she added, raising one eyebrow, "as long as we enjoy some time alone in the moonlight as well."

Legolas grinned at her. "Your every desire is my order, _moina_."

"Gimli!" she said suddenly, her fingers tightening on his. "Gimli should come as well. Invite him to join us," she urged. "He is such a joy as a traveling companion."

Legolas smiled as he thought about the trip…it was just as much for them as it would be a last bit of fun for the dwarf and himself before he was permanently joined with Enguina. It was perfect. He sighed, glancing at the stars. "I suppose it is time for you to sleep…and time for me to find the dwarf from wherever he is hiding tonight with his fellows."

Enguina looked down at their joined hands…and found herself unable to release them, unable to lean upward and kiss him goodnight…unable to even _say_ goodnight. When she did not respond, he murmured her name, gently…with an unspoken question at the end.

"Will you…stay?" she asked softly, her eyes still fixed on their hands. "If…if only for a little while. Even just a few moments…"

He reached out and tilted her chin up. "You need not ask, love," he told her gently. "I will stay at least until you are sleeping peacefully." He stroked her face and smiled. "Why do we not go inside and you can get some rest? I know it has been a long day."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice still soft. "Gimli—"

"He will be fine," he sighed. "I was…simply trying to be reasonable; finding myself something to do instead of standing at your front doorstep until morning."

She laughed aloud, and then tugged his hand as she climbed the steps.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you to my guest reviewer! :O)

* * *

He had been so tired when he had fallen asleep in the chair that the first sign he noticed that something was wrong had been a strange half-choking, half-coughing noise. Sitting upright, he blinked and looked immediately to the bed, where Enguina was not to be found. He threw himself to his feet and saw the top of her blonde head shimmering in the moonlight from the window as she knelt on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. The sheets had been torn off the mattress; she was half-wrapped in one. She held a pot in her shaking hands, and he suddenly figured out what the half-choking noise had been that had woken him. This was one of _those_ dreams.

 _Ilúvatar, I cry out to you! Help me to comfort her! Give me strength; give her peace!_

He stepped slowly around the bed, watching her shoulders shaking, tears on her face. His heart wrenched for her; he wanted so badly to reach to her, but he knew only too well what might happen from the last time he had tried to comfort her following one of these 'night terrors.' The pot was lowered as he reached the edge of the mattress; a floorboard creaked. She startled so suddenly he nearly jumped himself; she had forgotten that he had been in the room with her.

Once again, she reacted, in full-flight mode. She leapt to her feet and made it halfway to the door before she stumbled, her feet tangled in the sheet, and nearly went to her knees. Legolas reached out and caught her before she fell. Trying to lunge backward away from him was impossible, and even as she looked into his face and recognized that it was him, she could _not_ bear his touch. Not now…not so soon after that…that _feeling_. His hands were only holding her arms, yet, even that was too much. She nearly retched again, her mind on the memory of the pain, the dream, and she thrashed against him once before he had a chance to speak.

"Guin—"

" _Let go!_ " she choked out, a horrified whisper strangling out of her throat. " _O god, Legolas, please let me go! Pleasepleaseplease…_ "

"Enguina, let me _help_ —"

"I… _cannot…_ your _hands…please…let go!_ "

Pain was clear on her face, but it was her words that struck him like a physical blow; she could not have him touching her? As he pulled his hands from her, she stumbled away from him, fell against the door frame, and then dropped to her knees in the hall. She lowered her head and held it in her hands, panting and shaking as he stood nearby, completely helpless. She was so weak that her legs could not hold her, and she dragged herself a few feet towards the door by her hands before turning and trying to make her way towards the bath.

Enguina did not make it. She had not dragged herself four steps before she retched again, barely able to support herself on one arm. She knelt there, coughing, sick as her head spun. He reached for her, unable to stand by and watch her any longer.

"Enguina, _please_ … _let me help you_ …" he laid a hand against the back of her head, but she wrenched away again, this time, breaking down into tears as she flung up a hand in between them to protect herself, snapping the ends of her nails against his chin, he was so close. She did not know it, but she was breaking his heart. He knelt beside her, both his hands in the air, his palms up.

"Eru in Heaven," he whispered, "I will not touch you, but…dear god, Guin, tell me how to help you…I cannot just sit here!"

Unable to support her weight any longer, the trembling overtaking her, she slumped back against the wall, her nightdress hanging from one shoulder, the sheet still wrapped around her ankles. She was _sick_ , her brow and hair slick with sweat, her face whiter than snow. He had never seen her this way; yes, he had seen her ill before, once, on the road home two months ago. His own hands were beginning to shake, upset as he was, and he could bear it no longer.

" _Please_ …I _beg_ you. Tell me what to _do_."

She swallowed, hardly able to think about anything but the dream, the visions that swam in her head before her. "Ar…Arwen…Aragorn…" she whispered, her voice breaking at the end.

"It is too long to bring them here," he said. "Can I…if I wrap you in a blanket, can I carry you?" He could see her fingers twitching, her lips trembling. He was going to sit here no longer. He stood and hurried into her bedroom, scooping a blanket from the chair and returning to her side.

Shock struck his features when he saw bloody marks near her shoulders where there had been none moments before. It took him only a matter of seconds to see what she had done, as her hands rose again to tear at her own skin, her eyes tightly closed, a whimper on her lips.

"No, no, Guin!" he reached down and his hands stalled before they reached her as he grieved about being pushed away again, frightening her again…but he _had_ to stop her, did he not? Grabbing her hands, he held them tight, her eyes snapping open to try and shove back, react _react_ **react** was all her mind was screaming. Her head knocked against the wall and she winced in pain for a moment…and he quickly used that moment to wrap the blanket around her without her noticing.

She groaned aloud, her eyes snapping open to meet his as she gasped, her voice pleading, "Legolas…you…you _have_ to stop _touching_ me…"

"I…want to take you to Arwen," he said, trying to put aside his feelings for the moment, "and you cannot walk. I must carry you."

"That…no…"

"I will not…" he swallowed, forcing his pain away, "I will not touch your skin. Please…I have to help you."

"No…" she replied, violently shaking her head, her face still pale and sweaty. He ignored her plea and slipped his arms beneath her, scooping her up into them and holding her tight to his chest. She resisted once, and then had no choice but to let him carry her; she was exhausted, sick and weak. There was little she could do while in his strong arms. She muttered his name, her fingers digging through the blanket to latch on to the front of his tunic. He was glad they were there instead of tearing her skin to pieces. If this was the only thing he could do for her…then so be it.

* * *

They should have been expecting it; that was Aragorn's first thought when he and Arwen were startled upright in their bed as the front door of their home was forced open, banging against the wall so hard it sounded like thunder overhead. Instead, they were caught unaware and half-asleep as they stumbled their way out of their bedroom and, to their surprise, nearly ran into Legolas as he carried Enguina towards the divan.

"Arwen—"

"We know," she interrupted softly, and Aragorn swerved around them towards the kitchen. "Lay her down over there."

He did as he was told, his hands shaking as he tugged them back from Enguina's body, and Arwen slipped between them, taking the elf into her arms. Enguina was trembling so hard that the divan was shaking, but Arwen pressed her to her chest and laid her head against hers.

"Shh…you are safe, Enguina," she whispered. "You are safe; Legolas brought you here, just as he said he would. Everything is going to be all right."

Legolas stared at her. How could she _know_ that? How could she know that he had said such a thing to her? Aragorn stepped past him, this time carrying another blanket which he wrapped securely around Enguina, carefully placing his hands. Enguina's trembling worsened and she began to cry in earnest, her face pressed into Arwen's neck as the elf tried to soothe her. The man reached out and caught Legolas's arm.

"Come with me," he said, "until the tea boils." Legolas blindly followed Aragorn; he had nowhere else to go, and he was not very well going to leave her here…not after bringing her himself. "Sit," the man said, gesturing vaguely toward a chair, "she will not be able to speak to you for some time yet. You might as well wait." But Legolas could not sit. Instead, he found himself staring at Aragorn, and even more interestingly, found himself _very_ irritated, asking the same question in his head that he had not been annoyed enough to ask earlier aloud. Aragorn, leaning against the table, crossed his arms, watching the elf pace.

"You are upset," he stated, and then allowed Legolas to fume until he filled in the empty space.

"Yes, I am _upset_ ," he snapped, narrowing his eyes at Aragorn. "How can I _not_ be upset? _You_ at least seem to know _exactly_ what is going on here and I have not an inkling!" He glared at the man. "She is not some stranger on the road that I found on my way to the House! This is the woman who is soon to be my _wife_ , losing control, physically ill, nightmares taking her mind, while _I_ am forced to sit idly by _watching_ it happen! Where is the justice in that?" He was so frustrated that his hands balled into fists, and then he pointed a finger accusingly at Aragorn. "She has been here many times; I _know_ you know what is happening here!

"It is not within my power to tell you the truth," Aragorn returned softly.

"What in the name of _Heaven_ is going on? My closest friend will not tell me—"

"Legolas," Aragorn said trying to be reasonable, "you knew that there were times when Enguina would come here—"

"But I had _no idea_ how ill she was!" he said miserably. "And _you_ never saw fit to tell me."

"Legolas, this is not my story to tell," he added. Legolas opened his mouth to object, but Aragorn shook his head and continued, "And that is how it will remain."

Legolas gritted his teeth. "Whose story _is_ it then? Arwen's? One of you _will_ tell me," he said angrily. "I will _make_ —"

"You will do nothing of the kind," Aragorn said a bit sternly, "and you will control your temper. Anger will get you _nowhere_ here, Legolas." The elf's lips became a thin line at being met only with frustration, and Aragorn continued simply, his voice now soft. "The story is Enguina's alone…and only she can know, only she can choose, the time to divulge the tale. It is not my place. You must see that."

Legolas groaned loudly and then heavily sank down into a chair beside the man. "Aragorn, this is _killing_ me! To see her this way, unable to hold her, comfort her…even _touch_ her! You have to understand my frustration!"

"I do," he said gently and Legolas slapped a hand against the table.

"Then imagine if Arwen were in Enguina's place, and instead of running to _you_ for comfort, she ran to someone else—to _me_ , to Enguina! How would that make you feel, Aragorn? To know, that you could not comfort her, that she needed to seek the arms of someone else?"

"Terrible," he replied honestly, "but you can say nothing on this matter that will turn me. Forgive me, but on this subject I am closed."

"You have sentenced me to unbearable torment," he whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "This cannot be borne!"

Aragorn hesitated, and then laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Legolas, I can only imagine how cruel this must seem to you, and for Arwen and I to be the bearers of such a secret is hard to accept. I _am_ sorry. You—"

"Aragorn?" came Arwen's soft call from the other room.

"Excuse me," Aragorn said, straightening and heading towards the sitting room where he crossed to Enguina. Legolas, unable to sit while he knew there was something going on in the other room, followed him, but only to the threshold. He did not enter; instead, he leaned against the doorjamb, waiting…watching.

"She is freezing," Arwen murmured to Aragorn as he reached them. She looked up into his face, and he nodded as he crouched down beside them, lifting a hand and settling it into her hair. Enguina flinched at his touch, but did not pull away. She had been through this before, and she knew that sometimes simply between his comforting warmth and Arwen's arms, she could chase the darkness from herself. Her trembling began to become less frequent, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

"There now," Arwen said gently, smoothing her hair. "You are all right…safe."

"I feel…" Enguina whispered, tears choking her voice, "I feel as though I am still dreaming. That I am still _there_ …"

" _Aiwë_ ," Aragorn said, "you are not. Arwen is telling the truth. No one can harm you here; we are here to protect you." He lifted his hand from her head.

"Perhaps a little more light in here," Arwen said softly and Aragorn nodded. Turning, he began lighting a fire in the hearth. He glanced up and found Enguina's red eyes fixed on him.

"Legolas?" she whispered.

"He is here," he replied. "Do you—"

She swallowed hard, and buried her face in Arwen's neck again. "Not…not yet," she mumbled, and Legolas turned back away into the kitchen.

She did not want to _talk_ to him? Could she not face him? Was she afraid of what he thought of her? Dear Ilúvatar, he could not be without her! He was _terribly_ worried; he feared for her, the way she hurt herself, how she was physically ill because of these dreams. Sitting back down at the table, he laid his head in his hands and sat quietly. He more felt Aragorn enter the room than heard him as the man walked to the hearth and filled a mug of tea. Legolas could smell the calming herbs; even the scent was helpful to _his_ shattered sense of peace. Aragorn turned to go back out, but Legolas caught his sleeve.

"Is there no way for me to help her?" he pleaded, and he sounded so miserable, so distraught, that Aragorn took pity on him. He frowned.

"Pray for her, Legolas…pray that she will find the strength to tell you about her dreams…and, with time, that you can heal her wounds."

Legolas eyed him sadly. " _You_ are the Healer, Aragorn. What can _I_ do?"

"You will be her husband," he said softly, "and your words, your thoughts, your prayers, mean more than any amount of comfort from me ever could. Keep that in mind. She may not be able to tell you what is happening, Legolas, but she still needs you to be here. What do you think would happen to her if she had asked if you were here and I had responded with negative words?"

The elf frowned deeply and swallowed. "I do not wish to think of it."

"Then pray, and keep watch…wait for her to be ready." He sighed softly. "It has to be soon now; I cannot imagine she will be able to keep you waiting much longer."

"Why might you say that?"

"Because she needs you," he said simply. "Because she needs _your_ reassurance, not ours. She will see it…soon enough." He glanced back toward the other room. "Let me take her the tea; she is exhausted. Before she falls asleep, she will ask for you." He turned back to him and his eyes were sincere. "Be patient, Legolas."

"There is only so much suffering one heart can watch," he said softly. "I do not know what the limit of mine is."

Aragorn's eyes grew sad. "You barely know what suffering is, Legolas," he said softly. "And you can take much more of it than you would like to think. I would urge you again…be patient with her. It is going to take time."

The man turned from the elf and made it to the door before Legolas blurted out, "Did she tell _you_?" He had not meant for it to leave his mouth the way it did, but the words lingered between them. He would not take them back; now that he had asked, he _had_ to know the answer.

"No," Aragorn told him. "No, she did not."

The man left the room, and Legolas stared after him, waiting…planning…

It was many minutes later when Arwen entered the room, pausing at the threshold. She had her eyes closed, her arms crossed against her nightdress, her face pointed towards the roof. He watched her sigh heavily and then she opened them, looking over at him. Turning to face him, she leaned her hip against the table.

"No rest for the weary," she said softly, trying to smile.

Legolas had thought of nothing else but what he would say to her when he saw her next from the moment Aragorn left the room. He reached up and took one of her hands in his.

"Arwen, for the sake of my sanity and hers, will you not act out of compassion?" he asked gently. "Will you not give me peace of heart so that I do not have to worry for Enguina anymore?"

"What…" she hesitated, and then asked, "what are you asking me for, Legolas?"

"Please…will you not tell me what is tearing her apart? Tell me of her dreams…tell me what is happening in her head when she is lashing out, when she is so ill she cannot stand. I cannot bear to see her this way."

She gently tugged her hand back out of his. "Legolas…I can hardly bear it myself," she whispered, "but there is nothing I can do to ease your suffering. I cannot…I cannot break her trust."

His eyes narrowed for a brief moment. "But you would tell Aragorn."

Her lips firmed. "I needed to."

"Arwen, I _love_ her…nothing will ever change the way I feel about her. My love is constant, true, forever…does that mean nothing?"

"Legolas, if I…if I had _not_ told Aragorn the truth, Enguina might be sailing to the Undying Lands right now…and she would never have known how you felt about her. You would not have even had a _chance_ to fall in love with her."

"So…I should be grateful that he knows and I do not?" His voice was full of resentment; he could not help it.

"Not that you do not know…of course you should not be grateful for that," she chided him. "Indeed, you _should_ know…and you should be upset. In fact, you would be remiss if you did not tell _Enguina_ of your need to know." She smiled at the look of surprise on his face. "Yes, Legolas, I am _encouraging_ you to tell Enguina the truth. Do not pretend that her dream does not affect you; it affects you _both_. You need to urge her, when you can, to tell _you_ the truth. Tell her to stop hiding."

"She does not wish to tell me," he said bitterly. "I have asked her many times."

"But you have not been there before," she said gently, "not during the dream. This is different. You are so close to the truth, and…she does not have much time left until there should be no more secrets between you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do not tell me those who are wed do not have secrets. Aragorn keeps many things from you; I know it."

"They _should_ not," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I know _of_ Aragorn's secrets; I let him keep them. He does such things to protect me, and sometimes, Legolas, there are things a person _should_ not know. And sometimes those things come out…when neither one of us is expecting them."

"But I should know Enguina's secret…" he said, trying to lead her again into telling him.

"When you told her you could help her bear the burden…she wants to believe you. Your knowing would only lessen her fears," she added softly. "And when you are sleeping in the same bed…" She shook her head. "She has to tell you, Legolas…before you are married."

"Can _you_ not simply tell me?" he asked, frustrated. "It would be so much easier if you just—"

"It is…too painful," she whispered, and he saw her cover her heart with a hand. "I will not ever tell it again…I _cannot_. Do not ask it of me."

He looked at her then, and felt the heavy weight of guilt, thinking of Aragorn's words to him of temperance and patience…and everything Arwen had been through in these past few months…and how close she and Enguina were. Standing, he placed both of his hands on her shoulders.

"Forgive me for being so insensitive," he said softly. "I am so sorry; I will not ask again."

She did not look at him. "She _must_ tell you," she said. "I have been telling her…and _telling_ her." He could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Thank you, Arwen, for encouraging her to tell me," he said, a bit humbled. "I…did not think that…well…"

She tried to smile. "It mattered to us if you knew? Oh, Legolas, do not be so foolish."

He sighed, releasing her shoulders. "How is she?"

"Exhausted," she said honestly. "This…night terror always takes her strength. And she is confused. And hurt…always hurt." She sighed softly, closing her eyes again. "I wish…I wish that I could take her pain away."

"But you cannot," Aragorn said softly from the doorway. Both turned to look at him, and he nodded to Legolas. "She is asking for you."

The elf glanced down into Arwen's face and she gave him an encouraging smile. "Tell her, Legolas; tell her everything." He nodded and moved past Aragorn into the other room. Aragorn left him to it, and went to Arwen's side. She breathed out slowly. "Aragorn—"

"I know," he agreed. "I am, too." Running his fingers through her hair, he continued, "Did he ask you?"

"Yes," she whispered, frowning at him. "He asked, but I could not tell him. _She_ must be the one to do it."

"That is what I told him."

"And she would _never_ forgive me if I told another person," she added, "especially him." She leaned forward to rest her forehead against the base of his throat. "She barely forgave me for telling _you._ My eyes are closing. What did you tell Enguina?"

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her back. "That she may spend the night in the sitting room…that Legolas may stay with her if she wants…that we will be fast asleep in the other room 'til daybreak, and if she has any need for anything to either send Legolas or come herself."

"Oh…you _are_ good," she replied. "You have covered every possibility."

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "And I left the tea boiling. I thank you. How are you feeling?"

"How are _you_ feeling?" she asked.

"Hmmm…" That was enough of an answer to the question to make her smile. "Time for bed."

With his arm around her, they quietly made their way back to their bedroom, leaving the couple at the window seat all to themselves.

* * *

Legolas entered the sitting room and walked quietly to Enguina's side. He wanted to touch her, but instead, he knelt beside her and rested a hand on the divan. She opened her eyes; she did not startle. She looked at him, and he looked back, and she read a million things in his eyes that could have come out his mouth…but they did not. Instead, he simply gave her a smile, as though everything was going to be all right.

Tears flooded her eyes, but she forbid them to fall, and she reached out to cover his hand with hers, lifting it and laying it against her cheek. Immediately, his other hand followed, laying on her head and curling her hair around his fingertips.

"I wanted to touch you," he said gently, "but I did not wish to hurt you, cause you fear…bring you pain."

"You…" she began thickly, but she had to swallow and try again. "It is I who am bringing _you_ pain," she said. "Every time I dream, and I react to you the way I do, I hurt you…" She reached up then and stroked his face from ear to chin. "I can see it in your eyes."

It was his way to deny her words first. "Guin—"

"No," she whispered, "you have always been honest with me…do not change now because it is what I wish to hear."

He frowned at her. "I hurt when you are in pain. Tonight I…tonight was the most difficult thing I have had to do since…well, since a time I do not wish to remember as well as I do. It broke my heart to have you there, inches from me, and not be able to wrap you in my arms and bring you comfort." He looked at her honestly. "I do not think I was made to see you in pain."

One side of her lip curled upward. "No, I am certain that you were not."

"Guin, can you not…can you not tell me?" he asked softly, and she closed her eyes at the question. He frowned. "You need to stop trying to hide from me."

She sighed and it was a bit heavy. "Are those _your_ words?" She opened her eyes to see the truth in his when he answered.

"Arwen's, to be honest," he said without hesitation, "but it is I who mean them. Enguina, you have pledged me your heart…can you not trust me to keep it safe, to protect you?"

She _had_ hurt him…even more than she had expected, than she had thought. "Oh, Legolas…I can never forgive myself for hurting you."

He studied her face, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. "Forget all about it; it does not matter. What matters is what we will do for the _next_ nightmare…or the one after that. Are you going to suffer in silence, and then come running here…or are you going to let me help you? Are you going to run to _me_?"

"Can…can you not simply hold me tonight…and forget the dreams until—"

"No," he answered, pain in his face, "Ilúvatar, Enguina, your agony is all I see! How can I forget them? You cannot ask me to do that."

She gave him a little smile. "Now, there is the uncompromising Legolas I know…the one who can let nothing go, even when it would be better to do so. Protective to a fault."

"That is I," he agreed. "Over-protectiveness runs in my family, very deep, very strong. Expect our children's children's children to be dealing with the same fault." He looked at her seriously. "This trait has served me well, even though it may be your least favorite and will bring some disturbances into our wedded bliss."

She actually laughed at that. "Oh, one cannot have too much bliss, you know. Life would be a bit dull. A couple must disagree to keep life interesting."

"You think that you have slipped the noose for your charms are beguiling," he said, his voice turning soft, "but you are sadly mistaken."

"Legolas—"

"I will not be brushed aside by sweet-talk or irritation," he told her, but lovingly. "Guin, I adore you, love you, and want you to be my wife more than I want anything in my life. I want you to be at peace; this nightmare you have…it is hurting you more by the day. I cannot fight against something I cannot see, something I know nothing about. _Tell_ me what is hurting you. Let me share this burden…as your husband."

She lowered her hand from his face and blinked slowly several times before answering. "You keep asking me to give this to you, my agony, my sorrow. But you do not _know_ how it will…how it will change things; how it will kill me to tell you."

"Why?" he asked. "Can you tell me that? How will it change things?" He shook his head and slipped his other hand beneath her head so he could cup her face. "Do you not remember my words out under the stars that night, Guin? Can you not remember them? That I will love you no matter what? That you could tell me nothing that would change my love for you?"

"Oh…" she whispered, "I remember your words, Legolas."

"Do you not believe them?" he asked, and she knew he did not want to hear her answer.

"I…know that _you_ believe them with your whole heart," she answered, and her eyes were full of pain. "I want so badly to tell you—"

"Then just say it. Right now…just tell me," he said. "Choose to trust me. What is in your dream? What do you see, feel?" She flinched at the last word; he heard her breath catch.

"Dear Eru, I _cannot_ tell you," she said. "I…do not know if I can _ever_ tell you."

He looked down at her fingers, digging into the seat and he released her face to slip his hand in hers. "When we are married…there will not be any more secrets between us." She tried to take her hand back, but he refused to release her, sliding his fingers through hers to make the grip stronger. "And we will be _better_ for that, our love will be stronger for that honesty." He looked up into her eyes and he saw a flash of terror there for a second before there was sadness once again.

"You can honestly tell me…you have _no_ secrets? There is nothing you are hiding from me, not telling me because you are…trying to protect me? Trying to avoid me?"

It was how she knew he was serious when he took a bit of time to think before he answered her. "There is…one time of my life that you asked me about that I wished to avoid speaking of. If you ask it of me, I will tell you… _all of it_." He looked directly into her face. "I promised to share every part of myself and my life with you…and I will hold to that promise. Everything I am and have is yours, _moina_ _quén_. I have never been so blessed with a desire to share my life as I have a desire to share it with you."

"You would tell me, talk with me, about things you would rather to never discuss again with another living soul?"

"Enguina, I would tell you _anything_ you could ever wish to know," he replied. "If you were to ask me now, I would tell you."

"I…I wish I could say I was at that place, Legolas," she whispered in reply, her voice sounding more tired as she spoke. "I wish I could be where you are. But I will be honest with you when I say I am not there, especially not tonight." She frowned and closed her wet eyes. "I am…so sorry."

He reached out, took her in his arms, and carried her to the floor before their hearth, where he curled her into his chest, laying his head on hers. She sighed, comforted then, by his arms. She listened to him breathing, listened to the fire sparking, listened to her own heart.

"I…cannot forgive you," he said honestly, and he felt her stiffen. "I am still irrevocably and unfathomably in love with you, but as long as you are in pain then _I_ , too, am in pain. And because you shall not tell me, then you must give me something."

She was silent for a moment, her face in his neck. "The very infamous Legolas-bargain," she said softly, knowing she was nearly cracking a smile. "What do I owe to you?"

"When having this nightmare, from now on…you must allow me to be at your side. I will not—I _cannot_ leave you again. Not like that," he said, shaking his head, rubbing his chin against her hair, "not when you are hurting so much." He thought about her voice echoing in his head. "You must allow me to stay at your side, comfort you if I can, and be there to help you come back to the world if I am not the one who can bring you comfort."

"Legolas, we discussed this only this morning," she said gently. "What will people—"

"I do not give a _damn_ what people think," he said softly, seriously, "My only concern is _you_ now. I will sleep in the chair at your bedside until we are wed, but I will not leave you again."

"And…what do my _chaperones_ say about that?" Enguina asked, picking up her head and looking into his face. He smiled at her.

"I will tell them that it simply is…until you can tell me your dreams."

She chewed the inside of her lip for a moment before she spoke. "Legolas, I love you more than life…and it is _your_ constancy, your devotion, that has taught me how sincere you are. I _know_ you love me, but somewhere in my mind I have to believe that what you said is _true_ …that nothing will change, not even the way you look at me."

He had reassured her of this a thousand times, yet her dreams were still fighting him. "Will you agree to my demands…at least until you can tell me the truth?"

She hesitated. "Do you…understand what it costs me to say yes to this?"

"Yes," he said, nodding, "and it would be easier on us both if you just told me your dreams. I am willing to suffer alongside you, even while I do not understand…but I will not suffer ten houses away. Will you agree?"

"And what if the wedding comes before…I have told you?"

"Then we will stay up all night before the wedding until I can draw it out of you," he whispered. "Will you agree?"

He was _pushing_ her. She weighed her options. She was in no way being fair to him; she could have his comfort yet not tell him the whole tale? And what would happen when she could not have him touch her? Was he trying to drive her to feel so guilty that she would tell him? If that was his goal, and the dreams were going to be as frequent as they had been, then she knew that he would win; the guilt would be unbearable.

"What if I told you that pushing me will get you nowhere?"

"I would not believe you for a moment," he said, in that same low tone. "I have been as honest with you as I can possibly be." He leveled his gaze at her and raised an eyebrow. "Will you—"

"Lord Above," she whispered fiercely, "do not ask me again! I will agree, Legolas."

"Consider this," he said gently, tilting her chin up so he could look in her eyes, "your first lesson in truly sharing your life with someone. We are going to become one…we should practice."

"I…I _want_ to tell you everything, Legolas," she whispered. "It is just that I…am afraid." She hesitated and then continued honestly, "I love you." She could feel his breath on her lips, and she felt that familiar, yet uncontrollable desire to press her lips to his. Her eyelids fluttered.

He closed the distance and kissed her, gently at first, before he broke in with an, "I love you, too." Then she lost herself in that kiss, eager to forget the night's terrors and just be his only love. She wanted to be known as nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

Morning. Early. Arwen could not lie in bed any longer even though she could still feel that she needed rest. She was too awake, but she had no idea the reason. Lying still for another moment or two, she felt the crisp morning air coming in through their open bedroom windows. She watched her sleeping lover's face and smiled, stroking his cheek gently before leaning over to plant a kiss on his brow. For the first time _ever_ , he did not even stir. She could not remember any time that had happened, or any time she had left him sleeping in their bed after she was awake.

But there was a reason she was awake, and she figured it would be nice to spend some time with Ilúvatar on her own. She had several things she wanted to tell him, and their back porch seemed the perfect place to spend some alone time until the rest of the House was awake. Arwen had assumed that when she exited her bedroom, dressed and ready for the day, that Enguina and Legolas would still be tangled in each other's arms before the fire; at least, she _hoped_ they would be. She was surprised to find that she was wrong. Legolas lay, half-covered by a blanket, before the nearly extinguished fire whereas Enguina was nowhere to be seen. Arwen had her own ideas where Enguina might be, and taking a wrap from the nearest chair, she followed her instincts to the porch.

Seated quietly in a chair with a mug of hot tea sat Enguina, her one leg pulled up to her chest and her other foot touching the ground, her toes gently rocking the chair she was seated in. Arwen leaned against the doorframe for half-a-moment before she reached over and wrapped the shawl over Enguina's shoulders. The older elf titled her head to eye her.

"Good morning," Arwen said softly, crossing her arms and looking out into the sky that was only beginning to brighten with the first rays of sun. Enguina watched her as she leaned a hip against the rail.

"Is it a good morning?"

"It is a new day," Arwen said in the same, soft tone. "A fresh start."

Enguina narrowed her eyes and sighed, looking intently at her. "A fresh start, you say? You encouraged Legolas to pry at me last night."

"I encouraged him to tell you the truth."

She shook her head. "Do not sweet-coat it, Arwen," she said, her voice becoming snappish. "You are forcing me to tell him…and I cannot do it. I woke this morning with an image of him in my head, _staring_ at me as I spoke the truth about the dream…and he… _turned_ from me, horrified by it."

Arwen looked back at her evenly. "I am forcing you to do nothing. You can choose not to tell him…but you will never leave the past or have your heart in peace. And you will forever feel guilty about hurting him that way."

She glared at her. "I do not need _you_ to threaten me about the future! I know what it will be like, whether he knows the truth or not!" Enguina set her mug down hard on the corner of the small table beside her. "And do not speak to me of guilt! I am not—"

"Do not say you do not feel it," Arwen chided her softly. "You feel guilty because you have not already shared the burden with him, and you feel guilt every time you must push him away because you cannot have him at your side or touch you during that dream. Of course you do! Enguina, you want to share this with him, but you surely fear needlessly." She spoke the words gently, but they still felt harsh to Enguina. "Your fear is natural; but Legolas is not someone to be afraid of."

"You speak as if you could _possibly_ understand," she growled, "yet, you have no _idea_ , Arwen…you have never been in my place. You have never hurt the way I have been hurt! You have never had a secret like this that you felt you needed to hide from everyone _decent_ and _good_. And perhaps you are _right_ ; perhaps I should tell him simply to get it over with…perhaps I should stop prolonging the agony and just end it."

"Is _that_ what you really believe he will do when he knows the truth?" Arwen insisted. "End it…end all of it? And then leave you?"

"What possible reason would he have to stay?" Enguina replied miserably. "I am _broken_ , Arwen; a man wants a woman who is whole, does he not? I am not whole."

"Legolas fell for you when you had barely met," she stated. "Legolas wants _you_ …as you are. There are no conditions, exceptions, or amends that must be made on your part."

"That cannot be true—"

"Because you do not _believe_ it can be," Arwen stated adamantly. "You do not want to believe that he could love you without you wishing it to be so, that he could love you just because; you feel as though you need to _be_ that _something_ he wants or that something you have done in your life has won his love, but it is not about _you_ …it is about what you are together. You make him more than he is, just as he makes you more than you are."

"Come now, Arwen," she muttered. "When he finds out I am not pure, what is he going to think? He is going to think I am a…a…" She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand. "Eru, I cannot even _say_ the word—"

"Stop it," she said quickly. "You are not! Enguina, you said yourself that there was a reason you were here, in Minas Tirith; that something brought you here. What do you think was that reason? To come here, see me, and depart? Who do you think brought you here? If there was no reason for you to be here, why did you not leave Lórien all those years ago?"

"At first it was _you_ ," Enguina insisted. "I stayed because I listened to you. And then you left, and Erumar was enough to preoccupy me, to help me live, to try and move on, even without knowing what had happened to me. For years I struggled…and then Haldir died, and Erumar no longer had the strength or the will to save herself, never mind me. That was why I left, Arwen," she said honestly. "She was barely holding on herself."

"When you came to Minas Tirith, when you decided to stay…you _knew_ that reason was Legolas," Arwen replied, her voice still soft. "You have told him so, many times. You need to be with him; you love him, Enguina. I…am sorry that you were angry with me. I only want what is best for you, just as you do. I—"

Enguina suddenly glared at her. "How do _you_ know what is best for me, Arwen? How can you say that telling him is best for me, for us?"

"How can you think that it is not?" she asked, surprised. "Telling Legolas will lift a burden from you; it will bring you peace."

"I am… _fine_ ," she grumbled. "I can handle this. I _can_. I do not need your urging and I do not need you pushing Legolas to push _me_ either!"

"Enguina—"

"No! I do _not_ need your help!" she snapped. "You always think you know best, but you do _not_. Perhaps I _never_ have to tell Legolas the truth...maybe it is not even necessary! Just because you do not have any secrets with Aragorn does not mean I should not. Legolas does not _need_ to know! Not…not _everything_ must be shared!"

"Enguina, I know this is hard," she said, continuing gently. "I know that marriage is very new to you, and the idea of sharing everything _is_ a difficult thing to accept—"

"Yes, I know you share things with Aragorn and he helps you bear the burden," she muttered, glaring down at her hands and missing the hurt flash across Arwen's face. "I _know_ this already; but I do not need another example from your perfect marriage about what life can be like."

Arwen stared at her a moment and she could feel the sadness rising inside her. She knew Enguina was lashing out in worry, under so much stress, and she had not had enough sleep…but the words still stung. She would not address them, not get into an argument when Enguina was lashing out in anger. Maneuver her around the subject and deflect her would be a better strategy; there was no sense in being hurt.

"Enguina," she said gently, holding out her hand palm down, "all I want is for you to be all right. I want you to stop _hurting_ so much all the time. I wanted to help you see, to remember that Legolas loves you, is planning on marrying you, wants to help you, _can_ help you. If you let him reach out to you, he can help bring you peace." She frowned at her, worried. "Enguina, your pain hurts me too…can you not see that? Can you not see my concern for you?"

"So _that_ is what this is all about?" Enguina said with a bitter laugh. "If it hurts you that much to see me, I will stop running to your door at night! I suppose I _trouble_ you so much and bring you pain in your _perfect_ _life,_ your _perfect_ marriage! I would not want to bring you any _hurt_ —"

The slapping of Arwen's hand on the rail made her jump and pause. "Do not willfully misunderstand me!" Arwen said angrily, tears in her eyes. "You know very well that is _not_ what I want for you! I want you to be _safe_! I want you to stop hurting so you can _sleep,_ so you can _live_ , so you can love Legolas and move _on_. Stop feeling so alone when everyone in this House loves you and cares for you, and would do anything to help you…especially Legolas!"

"You cannot understand! _None_ of you can possibly understand what I have been through, what I feel after I have lived that, time and again in my mind!" she snarled. "When I suddenly wake and feel his hands on me, his breath on my skin, his weight pressing down around me! I feel as though every nerve is on edge, that I am set apart because I am so _unclean._ " She choked on the words and felt hot tears pouring down her face; they only made her angrier. "And _you_ want me to _tell_ him? _Tell Legolas about this ridiculous, uncontrollable_ _ **hatred**_ _I feel for myself because of what happened, because of the way I was_ _ **used**_ _…_ "

Enguina lost control of her voice and dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking. Arwen was at her side before her head made it fully there, wrapping her arms around her and pressing her tightly against her chest. She worked to soothe her as well as she could, rubbing her back, cupping the back of Enguina's head with her hand. There was no sound that reached Arwen's ears except Enguina's tears, and she held her, even when she heard Enguina sniff softly.

"When I think about telling Legolas," Enguina whispered, "telling him everything…all the details…it _hurts._ My heart wells up with pain; I cannot even imagine what it would be like to tell him the story, how I would even begin…how it would end…I just…I just hurt."

"Enguina," she said softly, "it _is_ going to hurt to tell him the truth…but not because of _his_ reaction to the telling…because of _yours_."

"I have never told anyone; there was never someone I thought really needed to know, that I thought I could tell. You knew because you were there…Aragorn knows because of you…but… _Legolas_ …"

Arwen laid her hand on the top of Enguina's head and stroked her fingers through her hair. She waited a few moments and then she gently said, "Legolas very much needs to know."

She felt Enguina swallow, then nod, and then there was silence for many minutes. Finally, Enguina spoke again. "I…I am sorry…I am so sorry," she whispered, guilt and a feeling of awful mistreatment filling her as she thought of her words.

"You…you are sorry?" asked Arwen softly. "For what?"

"For my words, spoken in anger…they were wrong. And I should not have been angry, not with you. You have always cared for me…you are always watching over me. I have needed the comfort of your arms so much these past forty years; how dare I be unkind."

"You have been under too much stress, Enguina," Arwen said softly. "The wedding plans, the dreams—"

"Do not excuse me; there _is_ no excuse for what I said. I-I hurt you with my words." She lifted her head from Arwen's chest and looked up into her face. "I saw it, in your eyes as I said it. I did not…I did not mean…I know you do not have a perfect life; I know that even though you have not suffered… _my_ pain, that you have suffered enough of your own for a thousand lifetimes. Please, I…I cannot even forgive _myself_ for those words—"

"We all say things we do not mean," Arwen whispered, bending to kiss her on the forehead. "Forget the words; they are forgiven."

Enguina closed her eyes. "You…are far too forgiving."

Remaining silent instead of choosing to reply, Arwen simply stood near the chair as she held her. The smell of cooking breakfast made her lift her head, and she smiled, dragging her fingers through Enguina's hair again. "Aragorn or Legolas must be cooking breakfast. Shall we head in?"

Enguina nodded and stood up beside her. As she turned to go, Enguina caught her arm and rested her hand on it. "Just…give me some time, all right? I need time…to find a way to tell him."

She touched Enguina's cheek. "He loves you; it _is_ enough, you know."

"I…I know," she agreed slowly, and followed Arwen inside.

* * *

"Faramir! Welcome!" Aragorn called as he opened the door at the sound of the knock, and his friend clasped his arm. Aragorn's wide smile made one break out on Faramir's face as well, and the younger man shook his head.

"Here already? I am shocked, to say the least! I expected to have Arwen greet me!"

"Are you disappointed?" Aragorn teased warmly.

"Most certainly!" he laughed, and Aragorn hit him in the shoulder as he passed to hug Arwen. He slipped his arms about her and they kissed the other's cheek.

"Oh, Faramir, you are too kind," Arwen laughed softly, and over his shoulder, she watched Aragorn scoop up Andúnêiel. He kissed both of her cheeks, and Arwen smiled, even if it was a little sad. "She is getting bigger every time I see her," she said, and Faramir released her to turn and look at the little girl.

"Yes," he agreed softly, "I feel as though I am missing half her childhood, and I have been here for all of it." They watched as Aragorn leaned over and kissed a laughing and very pregnant Éowyn. As he did, Annî wrapped her hands in his hair, and he laughed again, reaching up to try and take her fingers out. Éowyn helped him, taking her out of his arms and scolding her gently. Faramir laughed and gave Aragorn a gentle shove from behind.

"Do not forget, friend, that _you_ taught her that," he said jokingly. Aragorn smiled at him, as Faramir wrapped one arm around Éowyn, fixing the shawl around her shoulders.

"Yes, friend, but you are the one who continues to allow her to do it," the older man pointed out, and the little girl in Éowyn's arms giggled and clapped her hands together. "See," Aragorn said, pointing at her, "she agrees with me." Faramir shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Annî," Faramir insisted, taking her from Éowyn's arms, "do not say you agree with your Tirion instead of me." She frowned at him, looking deep into his eyes.

"I do, Daddy," she said, and her face turned into a huge smile as she looked back over her shoulder to Aragorn. He winked at her, and she giggled again. Annî reached her hands out for Arwen.

"Tiriel!" she cried, waving her arms, and Faramir set her on the floor so she could run to the elf's legs. "Tiriel, I picked a flower in the garden!" she called, waving a hand and clutching a flower for her. Arwen crouched, laying a hand in her hair and bringing the girl's hand to her face so she could smell the flower.

"Oh, Annî, it is beautiful," she told her. "Let me put it in your hair."

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, and Arwen slipped the stem beneath the ribbon that tied back Annî's rapidly growing shock of red hair.

"There, chên nîn," she said, "now _you_ are beautiful, too." Faramir laughed as Annî danced around in a circle and then ran back to her father. He lifted her back up into his arms, laughing as he kissed her cheek.

"Daddy, look at me!"

"I see you, love."

Annî's response was lost in Éowyn moving to stand beside Arwen. The elf looked up at her and then stood up as Éowyn laid a hand on her womb. She sighed and rubbed her hand on her belly, giving a tired smile. "My, my…this baby cannot seem to settle down tonight."

Arwen smiled in return and watched her stomach for a moment, noticing an elbow protrude and then go away. She laughed and raised her eyebrows at her friend as she reached out and laid a hand on Éowyn's belly herself. "He is certainly active, Éowyn. You must be exhausted; come to the table and put up your feet."

Éowyn shook her head and laughed, too. "Oh, every time the babe does this I cannot help but be reminded about the times when you would get no rest at night at all. Your baby was always so—"

There was utter silence as Éowyn suddenly cut off her words, and Aragorn's head shot up, his eyes focused on Arwen even as he stirred the stew, a stab of pain spearing him through the chest. Faramir appeared to be the only one oblivious and unaffected by the words, but Éowyn looked horrified.

Immediately, she covered Arwen's hand with her own. "Ilúvatar, forgive me, Arwen," she whispered, "I am _so_ sorry. I did not think—"

Arwen shook her head, laying her hand on the woman's arm. "Please, it is fine, Éowyn. Everything is just fine." She gave her a little smile as Éowyn attempted to interrupt her, and continued rapidly, "I hope your little one will not be awake all evening." She tugged her arm, "Come along and sit down." Éowyn trailed along behind her, but Arwen was determined to make her let go of the careless words. The poor woman had meant no harm, and it was certainly no one's fault how the words would affect her.

Aragorn watched Faramir follow them over, and let out the breath he had been holding. It had only been a few days since Arwen's last dream about the child, and the pain was still fresh in her mind. Yes, he hurt too, but there was _nothing_ as excruciating to him as her pain when it took her suddenly. And there was never anything he could do but hold her and comfort her. He watched as Faramir set Annî down in a chair and moved to assist Éowyn, taking her hand.

"Come, love; take a seat at the table. You are exhausted already," he said lovingly. He began assuring himself that she was comfortable, that she was fine, even as Arwen was doing much the same thing. He hovered for several more minutes before turning and making his way toward where Aragorn stood near the hearth.

Behind his back, Arwen leaned conspiratorially across the table, a little smile on her face. "Éowyn, are you _certain_ you are quite well?" The smirk on her face made Éowyn roll her eyes, but still she smiled.

"Oh please, Arwen…I love him, but he worries far too much. This _is_ our second child; that means this should be easier, yes? Yet, how many times did he ask if I was all right?

"Five…or was it six? I cannot recall," Arwen replied, giggling softly.

Éowyn reached across the table and slapped her arm. "Enough!" she hissed quietly. "It is not as amusing as you think. If it was Aragorn, you would have told him to hush long ago. At least I have enough sense to let him fawn over me if he wishes."

Arwen outright laughed. "I permit Aragorn to sweet-talk me all the time," she muttered to her.

Éowyn shook her head in exasperation. "When? I have never seen you sweet on Aragorn in public! Sometimes I wish Faramir would show a bit more…restraint in that area. But, another part of me cannot understand how you can contain your enthusiasm in public." She laughed, a little embarrassed. "I barely can keep my eyes off of Faramir when there are others around, never mind being all—what should I call it—proper?" She laughed, "All glory, laud, and honor to you if you can do so."

"Sometimes, it is _very_ hard and other times less difficult," she added with a shrug. "But, it is only right that we think of the people first; we are the King and Queen."

"Oh…but the Council does not need to be thought of, yes?"

Arwen gave her a wry smile. "They are thought of, but just simply…not _worried_ over?" Éowyn laughed as Arwen continued. "The people must come first…and the last…months have been difficult." Éowyn looked away, and Arwen could see a faint blush on her cheeks. "Do not be ashamed of seeing the difference in us, friend," she said, sighing softly. "Anyone with eyes would have noticed."

"Legolas said you both seemed more alive than ever when I saw him today," she added. "I thought that was a very good thing, and I was glad to hear it. I have been…so worried for you both. And I did not want to leave you both if…well…things were not better."

Arwen's eyes widened with surprise. "Leave? Where are you—"

Faramir's loud voice calling a 'welcome' cut over her words just as a hearty greeting came from the lips of Gimli the dwarf. Entering the House, he clasped arms with Aragorn and then Faramir, having a brief laugh over the 'missing King' that he had heard of just this morning, and how he very much approved of the disappearing act.

"It's carried on quite long enough this past month, and I daresay it's about time that it's ended!"

Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, as the dwarf laughed. "I am grateful for your approval, Master Dwarf." Gimli turned then and saw the wives and he grinned at them.

"Ah, it's good to see you lasses again. What's for supper tonight?" Éowyn laughed as Gimli breathed in deeply. He smiled at Arwen and took one of her hands. "Ah…it is stew, isn't it? Delicious stew!"

Arwen laughed, and she bent to kiss his forehead. "You are sweet, Gimli, but I do believe that you would speak such words about any meal that I roast or boil over a hot flame. Though, to be honest, Aragorn helped quite a lot with this dinner."

"I do say that every meal has something of its author, hmm?" He laughed and released her hand, and she smiled again.

"Gimli, are you trying to tell Arwen that she is 'delicious'?" laughed Éowyn, and Gimli turned slightly red. Before he could reply, there was another loud welcome that came from the door, with words of greeting in Elvish.

"Suilaid!" cried Aragorn, clasping Legolas' arms and laughing. "Welcome once more to our humble abode."

"I feel as though I only just departed," Legolas said with a grin. "Ah, the fair Arwen has toiled for a long day over a hot cooking pot. Poor girl."

Aragorn, finished kissing Enguina's cheek, turned with a smile to Legolas. "Yes, indeed," he replied, sparing time to snatch a quick glance at Arwen, "and how was your day? Well, I hope."

Enguina smiled at him, "I feel as though I slept most of it away."

Legolas nudged him. "We decided to escape to the mountains for a time of rest. It was quiet, peaceful. A rather good idea after such a long evening. And how was yours?"

Aragorn gave a wicked little smile. "I left early today."

Enguina gasped and Legolas shook his head. "You mean that you squeaked out by the skin of your teeth."

"How did you manage it when they were so upset over yesterday's meeting?" asked Enguina.

"I suppose you simply need to know how to talk to the council," Aragorn chuckled. "It would never work all the time, but…it happened to please everyone today."

"I am glad to hear it," she replied, and, upon spying Arwen sitting at the table, she moved slightly past them to reach her. As she hugged her friend, Legolas leaned over close to the man.

"Aragorn," he whispered warily, "I have a very important question to ask you."

Aragorn looked confused. "What can I help you with?"

He glanced at Enguina, making sure she was not overhearing their conversation—she was too busy with Arwen. Turning back to Aragorn, his voice grew serious, "I need to know what Enguina is planning to do to me at our wedding."

"What?" asked Aragorn, as though he had not heard the question.

Legolas rolled his eyes. " _Come now_ , Aragorn," he said, his voice still hushed, "do not pretend as if you do not know. If she has not told you directly then I am certain that you have heard it from someone else in passing…possibly the dwarf?"

"I do not know what you are speaking of," Aragorn dead-panned, and his face was as still and innocent as if he had just been born. Legolas squinted and looked at him with scrutiny, frustrated when he knew that the man was not speaking the truth.

"I am determined to know, Aragorn; you shall not be silent for long."

Aragorn shrugged. "Surely would I tell you, Legolas, had I any sort of idea what your words meant. Without doubt, Enguina has spoken nothing to me about any such plans."

"What is the matter with all of you?" the elf cried, looking clearly distraught, and this drew the looks of everyone seated at the table. "Surely you all intend some horrifying affair to occur to me at the altar with an even more unspeakable aftermath—"

Aragorn could possibly have continued to feign innocence; he might have been able to keep playing dumb a bit longer had Legolas been less amusing. The face of his distressed friend along with the words 'some horrifying affair' and 'unspeakable aftermath,' did him in. His expressionless face broke into a smirk for one moment, and a sound sort of like a snort came from his nose, but that was all that was required for Legolas to catch. He immediately stuck a finger into the man's face, right under his nose, and a triumphant look came over his face.

"Ha! Now I _know_ that you are all hiding something from me!"

"What is going on over here?" asked Enguina, reaching over to take Legolas' arm and tucking hers through it.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at her, though he covered her hand with his as he turned his face back toward Aragorn. "I was just now discovering what it was that you were plotting for the wedding." Enguina glanced at Aragorn and shook her head, gently tugging Legolas with her.

"Come now with me, my darling," Enguina crooned, and Legolas raised an eyebrow at her even though his feet remained firm.

"I am not moving until I find out what your secret is!"

Enguina sighed and pulled him until he had no choice but to move towards the table. "Legolas, I am afraid that no one in this entire room knows what it is you are speaking of. Come now, and sit at the table where you belong."

"But—"

"Now, come on, lad!" cried Gimli. "We can't eat until everyone's sitting down, and you and Aragorn are the last two. Let's go!" Aragorn laughed as he moved to pour the stew they had made into bowls as Legolas eyed him longingly.

Suddenly, he sighed loudly, looking down into Enguina's face as he held the chair for her. "It appears everyone wishes me to surrender. And since, for some reason, no one appearsto be on _my_ side, I do not believe I shall ever discover what the matter is here."

"Oh, Legolas," chided Arwen softly as Aragorn placed a bowl before her, "no one is on a side." She gave him a little smile. "Let her have her fun."

He eyed her glumly as Gimli chuckled. "Even at my expense?"

"Especially so," replied Éowyn indignantly. "It is about time that we, as women, give back all the frustration we must put up with from you men."

"Ha!" said Faramir. "That is a laugh, Éowyn, when you are the source of so many of the worries I have…Annî is the rest of them, and you are both women."

"Annî is only a wee lass," Gimli pointed out. "She doesn't really apply."

"Besides," Aragorn sighed, finally taking a seat, "let a little excitement in your life, Legolas. Life that is predictable is boring. Do not take all of the fun out of her plotting."

"That _was_ the idea."

"You will have to forgive me for interrupting this…most important topic of conversation," Arwen broke in, rolling her eyes, "but Éowyn, I have to ask you…you mentioned before that you might be traveling soon and then Gimli arrived and I never had a chance to ask you what you meant. Will you be? What did you mean?"

Éowyn looked a bit surprised. "No one told you?"

"It was not my responsibility," Faramir said, holding up a hand while he helped Annî with the other.

Aragorn grimaced. "I did not remember to mention it when I came home today."

Legolas shrugged apologetically. "We were going to tell you."

Arwen's eyes widened. "You all knew?"

"Well, it was Legolas's idea," Enguina explained, taking a spoonful of soup. "He thought it might be a nice thought before the wedding…to calm our nerves a little bit while we still could before the big day."

"What…how…" Arwen shook her head. "I am so surprised I do not even know which questions to ask."

"Understandable," Legolas replied. "Let me explain. Enguina, Faramir, Éowyn, and Gimli, if he will consent to join us—"

"Aye!"

Legolas nodded. "Then Gimli as well, will be traveling to Ithilien. Just for a few weeks, we will be searching about for a good place to make our new home. Faramir thought they might like to join us. It will be an easy journey, and we will not be far—only a few days ride from Minas Tirith."

"It…only seems so sudden," Arwen said softly. "I do not mean I do not want you to go; in fact, I think it seems to be a wonderful idea. You will return before your father arrives?"

"We wouldn't miss Thranduil!" laughed Gimli.

"I would not wish him to arrive and not be here," Legolas said with a grimace. "I would hate to see what he would have to say. I would prefer to avoid that."

Enguina smiled. "You make your father sound as though he is a terrible beast of some kind."

Arwen laughed. "He does, does he not? But Thranduil is nothing of the sort."

"Not to you perhaps," Legolas said genially, "but to a son he has not seen in nearly five years…he can be a bit of a beast."

It was Aragorn's turn to roll his eyes. "I will be sure to let him know you said that of him when he arrives."

"Certainly! You have always been on good terms with my father. He would enjoy getting irritated at me for something I said, especially if _you_ were to give him the news."

"Returning to the subject at hand," Arwen interrupted, and all eyes turned to her. "So you will all be traveling together? That, at least, seems safe to me."

Faramir laughed and put a spoonful of stew into Annî's mouth. "We will all be traveling…except our little one here."

"She is a bit young to make such a journey," admitted Éowyn.

"I'm assuming you found someone to watch her while we're away," inquired Gimli.

There was quiet for a moment around the table. "Well…" Faramir began softly, with a cringe on his face, "we…we were going to…" He glanced up, his eyes sweeping from Arwen's to Aragorn's. "We were going to ask you both if you would mind. It would not be for very long; you are her guardians and she feels safe with you."

Legolas internally winced and Enguina outwardly frowned. _What a time to ask them!_ She could almost feel the tension in the room. Éowyn's eyes were sad as she looked to Arwen's just as Enguina searched Arwen's face with her eyes. But the elf was not looking at either of them—she was looking at Annî. Aragorn folded his hands and settled his chin on them.

It was far too quiet for Faramir; even being second to the most patient man in Minas Tirith, this was far too much pressure for him, and he knew he had judged them wrong…perhaps there was no way they could do this. Not so soon.

"You know," he said, his voice echoing oddly in the room, "I think we might be able to—"

"No," Aragorn said, shaking his head.

"Of course we will watch her," Arwen finished, looking over to meet Éowyn's eyes, hers warmer than they had been moments ago.

"When will you be leaving?" asked Aragorn before anyone could say another word about it. "Assuredly after dawn, yes?"

"Whenever Annî wakes," teased Faramir, "and we can easily convince her that it is a wonderful idea to stay with you while we are riding out of the City for a few weeks."

"No, it will be easy," Legolas said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Annî easily loves _them_ more than _you_." Faramir reached out to swat him and the elf simply ducked around it, laughing as Annî giggled at him.

"Legless!" she laughed, and then reached out and touched her father's face before looking directly at Arwen. "I get to stay with Tiriel?"

"And Tirion," he said, kissing her little palm. "And you will have a wonderful time."

"You and Mommy will pick me up later?"

Éowyn smiled uncomfortably as Faramir nodded. "I…am going to have a difficult time with this."

Enguina reached out and rested her hand on her arm. "You both do not have to—"

"No, no," interjected Faramir, "we are happy to go with you. And we _should_ , when all is said and done. For how many times we should have done it already," he added honestly, sighing. "We will come to terms with it and be fine." He took Éowyn's other hand and squeezed it as she nodded slowly.

"Can I ride Isen?" Annî asked, interrupting.

"I bet Tirion and Tiriel would _love_ to take you riding while we are away," Faramir said with a twinkle in his eye. Enguina glanced down the table and watched as Aragorn lowered a hand and wrapped it very slowly around Arwen's, interlacing their fingers. She watched Arwen's face, Annî's face turned towards theirs as her eyes lit up.

"Can I? Can I ride your horse, Tirion?" she begged excitedly, her little voice mumbling over a few of the words. Aragorn smiled at her.

"Brego would like that very much, Annî."

* * *

The night was now quiet; the torches flickering in the darkness and the moonlight shed only a bit of light for the party who remained together on the front porch of the King's House. There was a silence among them as they watched the stars and enjoyed the comforts of being together. No one being about gave them the freedom to enjoy each other's company without having to worry about being watched, and the front porch offered more chairs for such a large gathering.

Little Andúnêiel was seated in Gimli's lap as he sat on the step of the porch. She knew that the tugging of the dwarf's beard was of some irritation to him, however she liked the feel of it between her fingers and was not about to stop doing it anytime soon. She had spent the last ten minutes combing all of the snarls out of it and at the moment it resembled a large red bush. Gimli seemed discomforted, but said nothing about it; he did not really wish to make the child stop her fun. _She's young; let her enjoy herself while it lasts._

She turned in his arms to look to her Father. His body was leaned against the pillar and he was gazing out into the night to see the stars. His arms were wrapped about her mother, his cheek resting on the top of her head, and there was a content smile on his face. She was leaning into him feeling comfortable and safe, his arms crossing above her stomach that was bulging. Her eyes were also looking out into the stars. The little girl smiled; she loved her family.

"Daddy?" she asked as she yawned into the silence. She could not understand why big people could be so quiet all the time and for so _long_. His gaze turned to her and his smile grew.

"Yes, love?"

She gave him her adoring eyes; she loved it when he called her that because it made her feel special. "Why is it so dark at night?"

"So people will know when Eru thinks they should rest."

"Do all people sleep when it's dark?"

He shook his head. "No, not all people, Annî. Some remain awake, making sure the rest of us stay safe."

"And many animals are awake when it's dark out," added Gimli. "Like bats."

"What's a bat, Gimli?" asked Annî, her eyes wide.

"It's like a rat with wings." Annî giggled hearing Aragorn chuckle and Éowyn cluck with her tongue. She grinned at the dwarf as he grinned back.

" _Gimli—_ "

"I want to see one! Can I, Mommy?"

"Bats are not very…friendly creatures, Annî," she answered as she heard Faramir chuckling in her ear. "They are not like horses, dogs, and kittens."

"Oh…" she said, looking back at Faramir. "Daddy, why do we have to stay safe?" she asked, yawning again. "Is it scary?"

"Is 'it' scary? No, little one, but sometimes it is better to be prepared for trouble."

Éowyn squeezed his hand. "A wise answer, my Lord." He smiled and sighed gently into her hair. She smiled in bliss, and the little girl frowned, knowing that when Daddy put his nose in Mommy's hair he was no longer listening to her.

" _Daddy_ ," Annî said more loudly, making an attempt to draw his attention back to her, "why are there stars? What are they for?"

Faramir lifted his head from his wife's to look down at her once more. "The stars were made by Eru as well. He knew that darkness, even for rest, needed some light in it, and so he created the stars and the moon. The stars make light for those who stay awake, so that they can see."

She looked thoughtfully at him, and then yawned again. "Do all the things Eru made have a reason for being there?"

"Of course they do, little one," he replied. "They would not be here if Eru had not created them for a reason. He made every one of us for a special purpose."

There was a bit of quiet and Faramir could almost _see_ her thinking. "Why am _I_ here, Daddy?"

He laughed softly, and Éowyn smiled. "So we can love you, for the moment. That is a very special question; one you might answer when you are a _little_ older."

" _I_ know what Ilúvatar's purpose for Annî is right now," Aragorn said softly and Gimli laughed as the little girl yawned again.

"Yes, it's time for bed!" laughed the dwarf, scooping up the child from his lap and holding her in his arms. "Don't bother moving, Faramir. I'll take your daughter inside the House and she can sleep there 'til we head for the house for the night."

"But I'm not tired!" she yawned, and everyone laughed. Gimli opened the door, still laughing, and Aragorn smiled at her as they went past.

"Put her in our bed, Gimli," he said softly, and he watched the dwarf disappear inside the House. He glanced down when he felt the weight of Arwen's head as she laid it upon his knee. He was seated in the chair nearest the door with Arwen sitting at his feet, her legs folded beneath her. A smile spread across his face as he saw the starlight on hers, and he brushed his fingertips gently against her forehead. He said nothing, but then glanced from her face to Enguina's, who sat only a few feet from them.

She was seated at Legolas' feet in much the same position as Arwen, except Legolas' fingers were running through her hair. He could not see her face, but he was certain that she was quite enjoying the attention. His eyes rose to Legolas' face, and the elf smiled at him, meeting the man's eyes with a secret smile. It was Faramir who finally broke the silence.

"So…" he said softly, "we are officially traveling tomorrow. Putting aside the randomness and madness of the thought of such a journey, we really _must_ decide on where to build our home."

"Yes," murmured Éowyn with a little smile. "The Prince of Ithilien must actually come to _live_ in Ithilien."

Faramir chuckled as well. "What a novel idea." He rested his chin on her head and wrapped his arms more tightly around her belly. "Although, I still think it might be a good idea if we waited—"

"Oh, Faramir," Éowyn chided him, "if we wait for _every_ child you have planned for to be born, we will never leave Minas Tirith!" His response was to blush a deep crimson. Aragorn shook his head and gave a sympathetic look to the man.

"I, for one, actually _do_ understand your guardedness in traveling with a woman bearing a child."

"As do I," agreed Legolas, and Enguina raised her head.

"Oh please! The only reason you both agree is because you are _far_ too overprotective."

"There are times when such a character trait is necessary—" All of the ladies rolled their eyes at once, and Legolas continued on seriously, "—and vastly important. Particularly with all of the trouble you three get into."

"I do not believe I know what you are—"

" _Yes_ , you do," Faramir insisted, turning his head to look over into Enguina's eyes. "How about the incident just after Aragorn's birthday when you nearly—"

"I thought we agreed that we would _never_ mention that again…" threatened Enguina softly. "You have a _very_ short memory, Faramir."

Éowyn laughed out loud. "Well, if we _are_ going to bring it up, you must realize that he _does_ have a point."

Enguina scowled, and turned her head to find Legolas looking purposefully at her, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, stop…it was not that big of a crisis."

Aragorn looked at her with concern. "I seem to recall that you nearly fell several hundred feet…no," Legolas agreed with a bit of sarcasm, "there was no danger at all." Enguina's irritation faded a little in the appearance of his concern.

Faramir snorted. "Thank Ilúvatar for many pairs of strong arms and some rope."

"Indeed," whispered Arwen, remembering the day. "You must admit, Enguina, _that_ time they were correct." She heard Enguina sigh and return her head to Legolas' knee so that she need not look at any of them.

"Will I never live that down?"

"No," replied Aragorn, his eyes concerned, "you will not."

"Indeed, and we shall remind you of it every time we believe there is _need_ for a reminder," Faramir pointed out. "And there is always cause for concern around any of you; what of the time Éowyn nearly drowned in the Anduin?"

"Faramir, Enguina is right; you _do_ have a very short memory. I thought we had agreed _that_ would never come up in a conversation either," muttered Éowyn. Faramir looked down into her eyes.

"It never would if it had not happened at all."

"As if any of you three have never done anything that gives _us_ cause for alarm!" cried Enguina, raising her head once more and waving a hand. "What about when I met Aragorn for the first time at the King's House and he walked through the door _covered_ in blood?"

"How about the times when _any_ of you come home looking as though you went through the war on any given day?" asked Arwen softly, though she did not lift her head from Aragorn's knee, his fingers now in her hair. Éowyn nodded, turning her eyes to look at Faramir.

"Yes, how many times has _that_ happened?" she asked, poking him in the chest.

He winced under her piercing gaze. "I promised you that I would not come home again looking as though I had been through another war. Beside that promise, the explosion on the fourth level was certainly not any of our faults."

"And what of the time Gimli was nearly buried beneath that huge pile of stone last year?"

"What in the world is goin' on out here?" asked Gimli, stepping from the house. "I don't believe this is the way I left all of you." Faramir sighed and turned his eyes to Gimli.

"We were speaking of how difficult it is to look out for our women when they are always getting into trouble." He turned to glance into the eyes of the men there. "I mean, really, you three have no idea; women who are with child are sometimes quite unbearable…and taking them on a long journey is…well, more like a headache." Éowyn looked fairly insulted, even though the others laughed. "I do not mean to be irritating," he said honestly, "but now that we are addressing the subject, perhaps you should _not_ go, Éowyn. Three weeks of traveling, when you are so near due—"

She startled him with a glare as her head shot up from her husband's chest. "I am settling this right now, Faramir. I am _going_ …and that is _that_." She laid her head back against his chest and reached over to settle his arms more firmly about her. He gave Gimli a confused look, and the dwarf chuckled.

"That is it?" Faramir said softly.

"I have had the final word—I am coming," she repeated, and she had a little smile on her face as though she had won. Gimli shook his head.

"You might as well let her win, laddy," he laughed softly. "It seems to me, from seeing these ladies all the time that things go much better for everyone when they win." He winked at Legolas. "Though, I suppose I don't know them as well as you all do."

"Oh, Gimli is _definitely_ coming with us," Éowyn stated.

"You said it," Enguina added with a giggle.

"Yes, Gimli must be agreed with," Aragorn said softly, smiling himself. "There is more peace in a home when a man does not argue with his wife." He nodded toward Legolas as he caught Enguina's smile. "A lesson for the future."

"I will bear it in mind."

"You have finally learned that, have you?" Arwen asked Aragorn softly, but instead of replying, he only smiled. Gimli sighed softly into the night, and Faramir rested his head once more on Éowyn's. Once again, they spent some quiet moments enjoying each other's company. There would be traveling tomorrow to look forward to. At the moment, all was peaceful.


	7. Chapter 7

It was not too long afterward that the fellowship had broken up, each returning to their own respective houses to ensure they had packed all the provisions they knew they would need. Arwen was readying the bed as Aragorn changed his clothes and then she sat down on it, tucking her toes under the covers, but pulling her knees up to her chest, her legs covered by her gown. She watched him for a few moments, eyeing his figure: tall, strong…even the scars that never healed.

She remembered the night when she first discovered them; the very night they were married. She had slipped off his tunic and stared at his chest, the long stripes along his back, and smaller welts from burns…from stories she would never hear. How surprised she had been, and how horrified at the truth that there had been so many. His journeys, his trials, his battles, had been to fight for his Lord and for what he knew had been right…and for her. And that when she held him that night, it was the first time he was truly at peace; when he could be himself and be still and calm. Yes, Ilúvatar had blessed her when He had given her Aragorn.

"Why do you watch me?" he asked softly as he pulled his tunic over his scarred back, interrupting her thoughts. He was not facing her at the moment, and she just kept on staring.

"I was only thinking," she replied, just as softly. She waited, debating her words; it was difficult to choose them. Aragorn drew near to the bed then, leaving the candle on the side table lit. Sliding onto the bed, he, too, bent one knee and leaned on it.

"What were you thinking, beloved?"

She tilted her head, laying her cheek on her knees, her hair cascading down her back as she did so. "Why did you offer to take Annî?" she asked softly.

He did not flinch at the question or at her gaze. Her tone was quiet, but it held no rebuke. "They could not take her with them…and she loves us…and…" _Then_ he dropped his eyes, even if only for a moment, and she knew what was coming next. "And I…thought perhaps—"

"That I might be ready," she replied softly, thinking of their conversation near the Anduin yesterday. He looked into her eyes with compassion.

"…that you might be ready," he agreed quietly. "I thought it might…bring you some peace."

"I do not know if I will ever be ready," she whispered. "But you are right; you are _always_ right. You see in me a desire to hide, to cower from the world, to hide in my grief, and you return me to life." Her voice grew hoarse and her eyes filled with tears. "You think that I would be well by now, but no. And I _need_ that, Aragorn. Sometimes, I need you to remind me to live."

Aragorn reached out and stroked her face with his fingers. "There are times I need it, too."

Her eyes closed; she was embarrassed that she was still grieving. "It is… _torture_. When I think of what might have been…my heart breaks. And then you offered and I wanted to take her _so much_ , and then I thought of—" her voice cut out, "—and how lonely I feel sometimes…and what everyone must have _felt_ for us when Faramir asked the question…"

Her grief cut his heart. "He was our _son_ , beloved," he whispered. "Of course they feel for us." He hesitated and then frowned deeply. "Forgive me…for making you so sad."

She shook her head. "There is nothing to forgive," she said, but he could see the tears running down her face, and he reached for her. As he brought her to him, she rested her head against his chest. "This grief is not of your making; I have prayed for this pain to be removed," her voice caught and she hesitated. "I do not know why He took him from us, but I know that it is something we must overcome…and I must find a way to heal." He remained silent as he held her, gently rocking her against him. "Maybe having Annî will help," she added though he could hear her doubt. He could feel the agony that threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced it away. She suffered a few more moments in silence, and then whispered, "I envy you the peace that you have found." She spread her fingers against his chest and over his heart. "I wish I could find it, let it reach my heart, but…"

He held a hand over both of hers, holding them tenderly. "Ilúvatar has given me this gift so that I might give it away," he said gently, and he rested his cheek against her forehead. "Let me be His peace for you. Let me be His light in your darkness. It is why I am here…" She lifted her head from his chest, and looked into his honest eyes.

"I trusted Ilúvatar…and he gave me you. Even in my darkest moments," she whispered, "when I think perhaps he does not hear me, when I think he does not see how hopeless I often feel, he is answering my most fervent prayers." Her eyes changed from despair to faith, and she gently whispered, "He has answered them with you…and with your hope, I will hope."

He tilted his head and looked into her wet eyes, and spoke thoughtfully. "Now…where have I heard those words before?"

"Mmm," she murmured as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You have decided," he murmured to her, "even though you are worried, to trust."

She tilted her chin up toward him and nodded. "I trust you," she stated, running a hand gently through his long hair, "and Ilúvatar. You have never brought me to a place where I could not trust in His strength to hold me. Even with this difficult burden, you are always taking it, shouldering it for me." Her face was so serious and so full of devotion, it brought tears to his eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

"I believe in your heart," he told her softly. "You have always been stronger than you know." She returned her head to his chest as he continued. "We will let Annî love us both for a few days; we shall spoil her terribly, and then send her home to Faramir." He chuckled. "That should serve him."

She laughed softly at his words, and he thought it was good to hear it as he rubbed one of his thumbs gently beneath her eye, wiping away the last of her tears. "I love you," she said tenderly, and her words filled his heart.

* * *

It was Glosbrethil who stomped his foot upon the stones first; the stallion was more than ready to go, and he tossed his head, nudging Morlómërog into a bit of a frenzy as well. The black shoved Brethil with his shoulder, and tried to grab a chunk of the skin on his neck, to which the grey responded with a squeal and a partial-rear.

"You two!" scolded Enguina, tugging Lómë's reins. "Stop acting like two-year olds and be gentlemen!" Both looked a bit subdued, but she could see a gleam in Lómë's eye; he had not finished with Brethil yet. She shook her head; if they did not head out soon, there might be a fight between the two of them.

They _were_ nearly gone as it was. Arwen and Aragorn, along with Annî, had seen them all to the front gate of the Citadel. They stood, mounts in hand, beside the horseman statue in the courtyard; even though they knew they would only be gone a few weeks, the good-byes were not easy.

Aragorn hugged Enguina, and held her arms before he let her go, looking down into her face. "Enguina, take this time to relax," he said gently. "You need time to gather yourself. Find some peace; talk with Ilúvatar—"

"And tell Legolas, I know," she added, rolling her eyes at him a bit. When he did not release her, she looked back up at him.

"I was not going to say that," he said a bit firmly, "but now that you mention it, it would not be a bad idea." He frowned at her. "Give him a chance. All he wants in all the world is to help you."

"I know," she said, and this time, he could tell that she meant it.

"Good." He released her and reached for Legolas's arm. "Take care, mellon nîn," he said softly, and the elf nodded in return.

"Shall I be _your_ sort of careful?" he asked, and Aragorn reached up and tapped him lightly on the side of the head.

"Wretched elf, you know of what I speak. Simply keep your ears and eyes attuned to the road as well as the riders beside you."

He nodded again. "You have my word a thousand times and again that I shall. I would never let any harm come to her that I could prevent. I would quickly give my life to prevent injury to her," he replied, his tone now more serious than Aragorn had heard him speak for a time. Aragorn's gaze grew concerned, and he rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Legolas…this is simply a short journey; there should be no danger to you or anyone with you, aside from the general challenges of traveling. You should return immediately if you believe something is amiss. Short journey; relax; take things slow." Legolas smiled.

"Faramir and I shall do our best to keep them from any harm, whether dangerous or not."

"A nice, leisurely stroll through the woods," Aragorn said his lips turning with a smile. "It should be good for you all, and the break shall be a happy one before the wedding to take place."

Legolas looked over his shoulder and nodded towards Arwen. "It is good that I have kissed the Queen farewell; she already has her hands full." Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as well and saw his wife holding Andúnêiel who was now kissing her father. He smiled, and Legolas met his eyes. "I was worried for a moment or so last evening. I thought perhaps she would refuse the child," he said softly, unsure if the subject was one he should even mention. "I thought perhaps you both would."

Aragorn nodded in understanding. "I know…but we will be all right, and we will enjoy our time with Annî. She is a sweet child."

Legolas laughed softly. "It is _you_ I believe we shall now have to worry about."

"Indeed," he said in approval, and then, glancing back towards Arwen, he smiled almost wistfully, Legolas noted. "Would she not be a vision with seven children about her?"

The elf looked towards Arwen, who was now being held tightly by Enguina. "Seven is a high number, Aragorn," Legolas said softly, grasping Aragorn's shoulder. "But there is not one more equal to the task!" Aragorn smiled back at him, and then Legolas lowered his voice. "While we are away, friend, you should try and manage more time alone, even if you should take the child with you. The Anduin is a small escape from your demanding life."

It was Aragorn who now looked serious. "Do not worry about _that_ ," he replied. "I am never allowing that to happen ever again." Legolas nodded, agreeing, as Aragorn reached over to clasp arms with Faramir.

"Watch over my little one," the younger man asked softly, a truth in his eyes that Aragorn remembered as grief from a previous time. "I think the parting is very hard on Éowyn, but I know that she is confident that our love is safe with you."

"She is still too young to travel on the open road on such a journey," Aragorn agreed, "but she will be safe with us, as you well know." He smiled at the man. "As if she were my own."

"I know it," Faramir replied. As he swung up into the saddle, he smiled down at him, his seriousness leaving him in the light of returning to teasing. "And that is good…because I would hate to have to worry on my little holiday."

"A _very_ little holiday," said Legolas as he gave Enguina a leg up onto Lómë's back.

When all of them were upon their mounts, they smiled down to the couple they left behind. "We shall see you in no less than two weeks," Enguina said as she laughed, feeling more free than she had in months…perhaps even years. "Then we shall return for the last minute wedding planning!"

"It shall seem as though you have been gone too long by the time you return," said Arwen with a smile, holding Annî close. The little girl was waving and crying goodbyes to each of them by name, and blowing kisses left and right.

"Oh stop that," Éowyn laughed, "you shall not even miss us!"

"Good journey," said Aragorn, laying a hand over his heart and spreading his arm wide, "May Ilúvatar bless your steps and watch over you."

"And you!" replied Gimli. All of those mounted covered their hearts as well, and then Gimli and Firgenwine were the first to travel outside of the Great Gate, all the while Annî was shouting goodbyes. When the group had faded into the morning sun, the three finally turned back to the City. Aragorn wrapped an arm around Arwen's waist and looked down into Annî's eyes as she hugged the elf's neck tightly.

"So they are coming back now?" she asked, and Arwen laughed softly.

"Soon, child, but not right this moment. You will see them soon enough."

The little girl smiled, her new teeth showing, and even Aragorn could not help the smile that came to his face. The grin was infectious. " _Good_! I want to have fun with Tiriel and Tirion!"

The tears that came to Arwen's eyes, Aragorn found, were tears of joy, and there was no mistaking that he knew this had been the right decision, for _both_ of them. He thanked Ilúvatar.

* * *

The elf would have sworn he had never seen a night so silent and dark. There was hardly any light at all, and the moon was veiled in dark storm clouds. He was already in a gloomy mood, and if he was soon to be drenched, his feelings would become positively _miserable_. The last few years of his traveling had not been kind to him; they had only served to darken his temper, for he trusted in no one but himself…he could not _afford_ to trust anyone but himself. His fuse, then, was too short, or so his comrades, if he could even call them that, would say. He would snap in return that they were too stupid to understand.

Soronar, as he was called, was one of the many elves who turned from Caras Galadhon when the Lord and Lady had departed, only he had traveled more quickly; instead of choosing the Havens, however, he chose to wander in Middle Earth. He no longer had light in his heart, and all his hope had left him, for it had already been torn by the grief of the loss of his family to orcs. Before the Lady had even departed, they had received ill tidings from messengers of the falling of the March Warden, Captain of the Golden Wood. Haldir had been his closest friend, and he had been the one to comfort his grieving widow. Even worse, it had been to his everlasting shame when, in Haldir's stead, he had been named March Warden by the Lady just before she had journeyed from Lórien.

Needless to say, the promotion did not last very long. Soronar, too injured with grief, spoke his goodbyes mere weeks after the Lord and Lady had traveled to the wedding celebration in Minas Tirith. He said only a few words to the elf he knew would take his place, and then hurried from Lothlórien with naught but his bow, his mount, and some lembas. With sorrow would he always look back on this parting, for he had never had the heart to speak farewell to Haldir's widow, and he had loved her dearly. Perhaps that had been the reason he could not say goodbye.

Upset and furious over Haldir's death, Soronar found that the rage in his heart could not be quelled until he avenged the elf. The fury burned in his heart to this very night as he sat looking up into the stormy sky. Finally, after traveling with this often vile band of elves, they had received some word of the murderers, nearly four years later. Would he ever find Haldir's actual killer? No; but he would hunt every last Uruk or orc until they had been wiped out. Their extinction was his ultimate goal…or to die trying. Finally, he would avenge the death of his closest friend, and bring himself peace.

He sighed softly, and then he heard a rustling off to his right. He knew, without even a word or another sound, who it was.

"I thought you were sleeping," muttered a soft female voice. He turned his head only slightly to meet the shadowed, hazel eyes of the elf who had been lying nearly ten feet from his side. He studied the dark features of her heritage; she, unlike him, had been from Rivendell. He rolled his eyes back into his head, turning his back to her.

"Why should you care?" he asked nastily. "I am always on watch; you know this. I have never trusted any pair of eyes but my own…I have never trusted the guard you set."

"You are shrewd," she said in reply, "as well as distrustful. They protect us well enough for the others. I do not understand you and your strange philosophies."

"Vilyath," he said, rolling onto his back with a frustrated sigh, "I could not care if the others approve or disapprove. You have never been a warden, a guard…you have no idea what it means. The responsibility alone was a great—"

"Soronar, you are _not_ in Lórien anymore," she said simply, shaking her head as she propped herself on an arm. If they had come from anyone else's mouth, the words may have rung with some kindness. "You have not been for nearly five years. It is time to put it aside."

He frowned deeply. "I cannot; after so many years in the guard, it is ingrained in who I am. Go to sleep if you wish, but do not expect me to do the same."

"You know," she added, "you are not the leader here. If you continue to act like it, when we have accomplished our work, you shall be put in your place. You are not _that_ necessary." She said the last with a bit of a sneer, and he sneered right back at her, sitting up as well.

 _As soon as this mission is accomplished, you little witch, I am long gone._

Instead of speaking those words, he said, "You think you know so much, Vilyath, but you really know very little. The Messenger is not—"

"He tells me everything," she snapped. "Girith always brings word from him." He cringed at her as the words left her mouth; he despised the thing, but something about her smugness brought him quickly back to reality.

"You are only in his confidence because you _sold_ yourself to him, _snagfëa_ ," he returned easily, and she glared at him. He knew he had wounded her with his words; he had become very good at that these past years.

But he should have been more careful; as bitter and angry as he had become, he was no match for her defensive nature. Vilyath smiled nastily at him, angry. "Well, at least I _have_ someone who cares for me… _no one_ cares for you. The only beings that did were killed in the Raids in Lórien, but…you could not protect them. Some guard of the Golden Wood you are—"

That was the end of their uneasy conversation. He lunged at her, his hands grasping for her throat, and were she not an elf they would have easily found their mark. She rolled away to her feet, but not before he had seen the flash of fear in her eyes.

"Calm down, both of you!" snapped a voice from Soronar's left, and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "You two never refrain from injuring each other, whether by word or deed. Enough already."

Soronar shrugged his hand off and sat back on his mat while Vilyath stalked away towards the fire. "One of these days, Omarom," he muttered, flexing his fingers, "I am going to have her throat in my hands."

"Save it for the Uruks," the elf replied. "No use in wasting the effort on her. Anyway, the reason we need to be quiet is that I have heard something. I was trying to listen; our messengers from Gondor might be on their way. It has been some time since we heard from them."

"We have been camping here on the outskirts of Ithilien, dodging Rangers for what seems like an age," Soronar grumbled. "If they bring word they have found the last stragglers of Uruks and orcs in this region, they will probably have slaughtered them already themselves."

"If they come from Gondor, then our odds are more likely to find the men who have been joining with them, hiding them," added Vilyath, rolling her eyes at him. "They would not be able to hide from us so easily if they were not being helped; orcs are not intelligent enough."

"If I were a better tracker, I would not have any use for any of you," Soronar said bitterly. "I would have found them already and killed them myself."

Vilyath laughed at him, her dark hair shimmering in the moonlight. "You would be deader than one of the men we killed in Rohan a month past."

"Was it entirely necessary to bring that whole incident to mind?" Omarom asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "It was rather terrible, and there are some who would rather not remember it. And I should think," he said, looking at Soronar, "that some of us have not offended you so much that you would be so unfriendly." The other elf looked sufficiently subdued.

"We had no choice, Omarom," Vilyath stated. "You know they would have forced us to stop from journeying out here to Ithilien, filthy alliances between men that there are in these times," she muttered under her breath, and then sniffing, continued, "Besides, they had it coming to them. One of them called me—"

"A whore?" Soronar interjected. She glared at him, looking as though she was going to tear his throat out, but he just shook his head at her. "If you could accept the truth, perhaps you would not have killed them."

"Soronar—" Omarom began.

Just as Vilyath was about to snarl at him, they heard hoof beats in the darkness, and riders drew near. The horses came out of the darkness quickly, converging on the lightless camp. Omarom lit a fire so that the newcomers would have some light and could warm themselves. They could hear the horses breathing hard after a long and hard ride, and both men and elves dismounted from them, uncloaking.

As they began to care for their horses, one tall, long-haired Gondorian with hazel eyes came toward the three as they were now sitting on the ground near the fire. "Good evening," he said with a light laugh. "I bring tidings from Gondor."

"And what is this news?" Vilyath asked eagerly as Soronar crossed his arms. "Dragsúl, is our prey close at hand?"

"Indeed, he is," the man replied, and he and the she-elf shared a look that Soronar did not understand. "His party was heading for Ithilien nearly three days ago, and they should be nearby within the week. We have been preparing for so long…I am _relieved_ the time has finally come. Our luck has held out!" Soronar felt the rush of adrenaline flood through him; _at last!_ Dragsúl smiled at him and nodded. "Your eyes have given away your thoughts; I see you cannot wait to engage them, friend. You shall have your sport."

"Not sport," he muttered, his eyes dark, tired of people who misunderstood him, " _vengeance._ Who is this mysterious 'he'?"

" _He_ is one of the men who has been secretly providing refuge for our foes," Dragsúl explained. "We will capture him, kill his men, and force him to take us to them. They will all be ours, and the last remnants of Haldir's killers will be no more!" He shouted the last part, shaking his fist. "Death to the Uruks! Death to the orcs!"

"Tell us more, if you can," Vilyath said eagerly, her eyes a bit wider now, like an enchanted child. It made Soronar sick to his stomach to see a woman so besotted with someone. "Is there any news from our Lord?"

Dragsúl shook his head. "I regret to say no, but there is a little more I can tell you. A few of the elves have remained in the city to track them at a distance. Those we trail are wise; certainly they would know if they are followed to closely."

"Even by elves?" questioned Soronar looking into the fire. As Dragsúl opened his mouth to reply, Vilyath shot him a silencing look.

"They are men experienced in the Wild," the man replied hastily, "and we must attack them as swiftly as we can and so that we might successfully bring them down with as little trouble and losses on our part. Remember, these men have been harboring Uruks and orcs for years from the Great War; they are not to be trifled with."

"We are _elves_ , Dragsúl," muttered Omarom, "even if _they_ were elves, they would not be expecting an ambush. But I am glad to hear news that we shall be on the move soon. We have been waiting for far too long."

"Have you seen Girith?" she asked Dragsúl. "Our Lord would be much pleased to hear the news that our strike is close at hand."

"No," said Dragsúl with a frown and a shudder, "and in a way I am glad. I hate the thing; better you deal with him than me."

"I will," Vilyath replied with a smiled. "I am also looking forward to the end of this mission, so we can all be back together again." Soronar looked over at her; again, there was that child-like gleam in her eyes. It would not be long until they would be moving out with their plan, and Vilyath would be unbearable once more, love-sick over her Lord. By that time, Soronar hoped to be long gone.

* * *

"Ithilien is far more beautiful than I remember," Enguina said with a smile. "The last time I was here, I did not have much of an opportunity to enjoy it… _and_ it was covered with snow." She turned to look over at him for the thousandth time, unable to keep her eyes off him for any longer than a few moments. It was too difficult because he looked so wonderful to her—he was so tall and handsome, so charming. Glosbrethil was prancing along with utter happiness. The stallion appeared almost ridiculous to her eyes, but Legolas was not even shifted in his saddle by his antics; he sat perfectly straight. Lómë was glad to walk beside Glosbrethil, but he made no attempt to act as happy as the grey was to be out.

"You know, I have traversed Ithilien six times," Legolas replied softly as he remembered. "On the way to war and back, a year or so after the War with Gimli, and on the way to find you. Both times, I paid much more attention on the return trip; I can assure you of that, love. But there was something about the trees here that spoke to me, and I told Aragorn that I would like to make my home here." He looked over at her. "Do you think you will enjoy living here, Guin?"

She smiled at him. "Do you want me to answer that question honestly, Legolas?"

"Of course," he replied, meeting her gaze. "We should always be honest with each other."

"I will live wherever you are," she said gently. "Yes, Ithilien is beautiful and I like it very much. But if you were to change your mind, I would follow you. You…have become my home, Legolas."

He gave her a smile and reached over to take her hand. "And you are mine." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "When I first rode through the forest here, it was my vision to live among these trees and fields…and gentle rivers. I told Aragorn and Gimli about it at the time."

"Did Aragorn say then that he would permit you to live here?" she teased him.

He smiled. "Nay, he left that for the Prince of Ithilien to decide."

"Yes," Faramir called back over his shoulder, "and I told him absolutely not!"

"Stop eavesdropping!" Enguina called up to him, just as Legolas laughed.

They had been traveling through Ithilien slowly, on the road nearly four days now. They had simply been taking their time, enjoying the ride and the beautiful weather. They stopped often, taking care of Éowyn as she was very pregnant; she did not wish to stop, but Faramir insisted, of course. She was an excellent rider, and Enguina was amazed at her stamina. When complimented, Éowyn only laughed and told her that she had lived on the back of her pony, Lisith, when she was young, and that she and her brother would ride all day, every day. It made Enguina long to meet this 'Éomer' that was both Legolas's friend and Éowyn's brother; he would be attending the wedding.

"Actually," Legolas laughed, interrupting her thoughts, "what Faramir told me was that it would be well if the elves would come and remain close to men, and he is right; we should not segregate ourselves from the world of men any longer."

"The Lady used to say that because the Elves are now diminished, this Fourth Age is now the dominion of men, and that our power will continue to wane," Enguina added. "You have integrated yourself quite well, Legolas. The people of Minas Tirith love you, and the men of Ithilien will love your kin as much as they love you."

"I do not know what my Father intends, or if he has even spoken to some of my kin settling within this land. I told him, when Gimli and I had visited after the War, of my intentions, my plans, and though he acknowledged my wish, I do not think he believed me quite serious. But I know this: I would rather us not live alone any longer."

"So where do you believe might be the perfect location for a home in this beautiful landscape?" she asked. "Did you have a particular place in mind?"

He laughed. "Oh, no! It is the Ranger Faramir who knows his way inside and out of these woods. He has spent many years here on foot. Though," Legolas lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I hope he does not get us lost; upon horseback, many things seem different."

Enguina laughed and Gimli snorted from behind them, nodding at Faramir and Éowyn up ahead, who had their heads close together as he held her hand. "Even though the lad doesn't have his eyes on the woods ahead of us half the time, I still think he can find his way. He practically grew up in these woods! Though, he _should_ stay on the trail."

"I _thank_ you, Gimli," called Faramir, turning in his saddle, "for your vote of confidence." He leaned over and took Éowyn's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. "And _why_ should I keep my eyes on the trail if I know where I am going? Moreover, there are sometimes more beautiful things to look at than Ithilien." Looking back at Legolas, he grinned. "Are you afraid of getting lost, elves?"

Enguina laughed softly, and whispered to Legolas. "Even things that are whispered can be said too loudly in this open country." She called ahead to Faramir. "Not Legolas, but _I_ am! I suppose that if I am to be lost, there is no better place, and no better people to be with."

"That's right!" said Gimli. "And besides, Lómë knows his way back to Minas Tirith; he'd take you there before you were lost out here forever."

"Unless he was trying to spite you," Faramir pointed out. "He could wander around out here and eat grass forever and _never_ return to Minas Tirith." Éowyn shoved him in the shoulder and he rubbed it, pretending to wince.

"Ah, ya rascal!" called Gimli. "Don't go scaring her!"

"Brethil wants some time to run, I think," Legolas said to Gimli. "Are you interested, Gimli?"

"I know Lómë is," Enguina said with a grin and the black tossed his head.

"Does our fearless leader mind a livening of the pace?" the elf called as the three of them trotted up alongside the couple. Dwimor tossed his head, and Windfola nickered softly, nudging Firgenwine.

"Let me answer for him," Éowyn replied, turning to smile at Enguina. "Please ride on ahead and enjoy yourselves." She sighed a bit wistfully. "I wish I could join you, but…I probably should not."

"We have traveled far today already," Gimli said. "Perhaps we should take a—"

"No, no," Éowyn refused, shaking her head. "I am _fine_ , Gimli," she said. "Go, and we will meet you in a few miles for supper. Find us a good camping spot."

Enguina frowned. "We did not mean that we wanted to go without you."

Faramir laughed. "Do not sound as though you think we are wounded, Enguina! Go and enjoy yourselves. We will catch up in a few hours; we can follow your trail easily enough, and we have no set place we have to end up. Continue heading northwest and we shall find you."

"Be safe," Legolas said easily, giving them a grin. He spurred Brethil, and the grey quickly broke to a smooth lope. Enguina laughed as Firgenwine scrambled after him, but only Lómë's ears pricked forward. Enguina reached down and patted his neck.

"Well _done_ , Lómë," she said, and Éowyn smiled at her.

"He is much better behaved, I take it?"

"Yes," she replied, and then she looked seriously at the woman. "You really do not mind?"

Éowyn reached over and shoved her arm. " _Go_ ," she said with a mischievous grin, and she leaned close to Enguina and whispered, "I could use the alone time with Faramir."

"What are you two saying over there?" he asked with a grin as he watched Enguina sit up with a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh!" she said, a bit embarrassed that Éowyn had been trying to get rid of them and she had not even noticed. "We will see you in a few hours then."

"Yes!" she chuckled as the elf asked Lómë for a lope. Within seconds, she let him loose and he leapt forward, racing after Brethil and Firgenwine. Shaking her head, she turned and reached out to take Faramir's hand.

"What was _that_ all about, Éowyn?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Oh, I was chasing Enguina away so we could be _alone_ for a little while." She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, and he smiled back.

"You _are_ so very clever, my wife," he said. Then he became a little more serious. "Are you sure that you are—" She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and yanked him into her, roughly dragging his lips to hers and nearly pulling him from Dwimor's back. Quickly dropping his own reins, he caught himself by putting a hand down on her leg and another behind her saddle.

Breathless after a few moments, she rested her forehead against his and he chuckled. "I suppose you _are_ feeling just fine, dearest."

"Right as rain," she whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow, Lómë had made his way to the front of the pack after three miles and he was winding through trees as though they were beanpoles. Enguina, at this point, was simply along for the ride, clutching to his mane and staying close to the black's neck. It was exhilarating, and she remembered for the first time the feeling that she used to love about riding with Arwen. She remembered Arwen teaching her to ride on the younger elf's horse, Lómmoth, when she had come to Lórien for the first time. Haldir had forbidden her to ride the giant, looming chestnut, but she had ignored him…and fallen off. Arwen had put her right back in the saddle; within a few days, she and Arwen were riding her and Lord Elrond's horses all through the Golden Wood, and she and Arwen had become fast friends. There was nothing that had mattered more to her at that time than her friendship with Arwen and Erumar, whom Arwen had brought with her.

" _Enguina_!"

She heard the cry just in time as Lómë shot under a thick, low-hanging branch and she swung herself nearly out of the saddle to avoid being torn out of it. Just as they skirted under it, she sat up quickly and tugged on the black's reins.

"Whoa! Whoa, boy, easy now!" she soothed and the black skirted a few more trees before slowing to a jog, both of them breathing heavily. She glanced back over her shoulder at the branch and could not help starting to laugh softly to herself. " _Not_ nice, Lómë! You have to watch for my head as well as your own, you know."

By the time Legolas and Gimli caught up to her, she was laughing hard, bent over Lómë's neck. Legolas reached over and took her arm in his hand, and Gimli was muttering under his breath.

"You took that too far, lass! You could've been killed! Knocked off your horse! Lying here—"

"Gimli, I am fine!" she laughed, but then she saw the concern on Legolas's face. "Really, everything is all right. I am sorry I frightened you both."

"Guin, that tree nearly took off your head," Legolas said seriously. "If you had not heard me—"

"But I did, and we are all fine," she added, growing more serious.

"What were you doing? You were not looking ahead of you. Are you sure you are all right?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking…and enjoying myself. I was thinking about the first time I ran like that through the woods, with Arwen, and how much fun we had. That was so many years ago, when we first met."

"Well stop thinking and pay attention to where you're going next time!" Gimli growled. "You scared us both half-to-death!"

She sighed, lifting her shoulders. "Forgive me?"

"I suppose…" Legolas said, and lifted a hand to tilt her chin up towards him. "You have a scratch that needs to be looked at."

"When we camp," she said, turning her face away. "It does not hurt; I am sure it is quite small." Now that she was not moving, the area around her got her attention. "This…is a beautiful glade."

Legolas looked where she was looking and turned Glosbrethil towards it, moving out into the sunlight and then dismounting. Looking about, his eyes had seen very few places with as much natural beauty as this one. The trees were perfectly positioned around a glade large enough for a sizeable home and garden with a natural creek running along the edge of it.

"Even has a source of water," said Gimli with surprise and Enguina nodded. "Sure is beautiful!"

"Indeed," replied Legolas, staring around. He could almost see them building their home here; raising a family, together… Staring at the long grass, he thought about watching the sun come up through those trees, lying in it with Enguina in his arms… Oh, yes…he could definitely see them here. He startled when she touched his arm and looked over to her. "It _is_ beautiful."

"Could we have found a place already?" she asked softly. He smiled, covering her hand with his.

"Possibly," he stated. "We should walk the area, but not become too attached to it." He smiled at her. "We have only been traveling four days, and there is quite a lot of Ithilien left to see."

"Should we wait for Faramir and Éowyn here?" asked Gimli, dismounting as well.

"That is a wonderful idea!" Enguina laughed, tugging Legolas's arm towards the glen. "Then we can show them the possibilities!"

Legolas stalled for half-a-moment before glancing back at Gimli. "Do you want to—"

"No, I don't want to go frolicking through some weeds!" he shouted at him, waving his helmet. "Get out of here, ya miserable elf!"

Legolas laughed and allowed Enguina to drag him out into the 'weeds.' After several meters, they stopped and spun around each other like children before she dropped over into them, laughing. He laughed, too, sitting down beside her as he heard her sigh.

"This is a very beautiful place," she said, staring up at the clouds as she lay on her back, stretching her arms up above her head. "It is nearly out of a dream, Legolas." She looked at him shyly as he stroked his fingers through her hair and swept the edges back behind her ears. "I…could grow old with you here."

He smiled at her, now stroking her face. "You mean you could live forever with me here," he laughed quietly, unable to do much of anything except stare, transfixed into her eyes. " _Heavens_ _above_ ," he whispered.

"What is it?" He blushed; he had not meant to say the words aloud, but he was not going to not say them now. He would hardly deny her the truth.

"You are…you are…" The words got lost for a moment between his brain and his tongue.

"What?" she asked, worried now.

He found them again. "My eyes have never beheld anything or anyone more beautiful than you are right now. I…am so in love with you." Her skin flushed, and she felt almost _feverish_ at his words; he seemed not to notice. His fingers had fallen to her throat, his thumb on her chin; she swallowed hard. Yes, this moment had grown far too serious for her, for them…far, _far_ too serious. She sat up, and curled her legs underneath her, propping herself up on one arm.

Her intention had been to break the tension that had somehow happened between them, but her sitting up did not accomplish that at all. In fact, it appeared she had just moved closer to him, and she was still unable to take her eyes away from his. There was no pulling back from the moment.

"When I was standing at the edge of the field before, I could see you playing with our children in the creek…seeing our home here…seeing you and I right here, in this very grass."

Was it possible that she could be breathless just from looking into his honest face, hearing his vision of their future? How was that possible? Should she look away?

Of course she could not! Instead, she asked very softly, "Were we…were we staring into each other's eyes as we are now?" But she should have known better than to tease him.

Legolas smiled at her, and then tugged her arm out from underneath her where she fell onto her side in the grass, surprise on her face. He tossed himself beside her and propped himself up on his elbow, reaching out to touch her face, drawing her _very_ near.

"This was more like it was in my head," he told her softly, his thumb stroking her chin again, his hands lightly cupping the back of her head. His eyes were so close she nearly sighed aloud.

"This sounds more like you," she admitted, closing her eyes.

"What?"

"Knocking me over in the grass."

He laughed at her. "Ah, _moina quén_ , anything to be beside you," he told her, and then closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with a kiss.

After a few moments, she found her hand wandering back behind his head, wrapping around his neck and drawing him down into her, utterly lost in the moment. She was kissing him again, imagining for a moment that his fantasy was real. This place—this _beautiful_ place—could be hers…to be with Legolas forever and ever, without a care in the world but to be together and have children and love…

Coughing fell on Enguina's ears, and she made to turn her face to look where Gimli might be. Instead, Legolas went right with her, keeping his hand on her face, and she found that her hand did not wish to let go of the back of his neck either. He had leaned over far enough that her head was now in the grass and his head was over hers, more weight behind the kiss than she had expected—but it was _not_ unwelcome. Nothing at this moment was more important than kissing him. In fact, nothing could _ever_ be more important than—

"Sorry to interrupt you two doves," Gimli called from across the glen, "but you'd both better come and take a look at this." It was the tone in Gimli's voice that made Legolas return to reality first.

Legolas released her with a smile, and she stared at him, dazed, as he got to his feet. Chuckling, he extended a hand that she slowly took and he tucked her hand through his arm and walked across the rest of the field with her. He looked down at her and spied her blushing and her other hand up on her face, her fingertips brushing against her lips.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly and she nodded as they drew nearer to Gimli.

"Forgive me," she murmured. "I was living in the fantasy you had created."

He tipped her chin up with a finger, smiling. "I will not forgive you; there is hardly a need." She blushed again, but he was already turning to the dwarf. "What is it, Gimli?"

"Blood," he stated simply, pointing to the ground. "See for yourself."

Legolas released her and came around the trees where he was pointing, Enguina at his heels, daydream gone. "Animal?" Legolas asked softly, looking at the ground around it. There was quite a bit of blood on the ground; the attack must have been pretty severe.

Gimli shook his head. "I think human. I found horse tracks about fifty meters east, but very light, very old; there must've been someone hunting or being hunted."

"Not fresh," Legolas said softly. "Perhaps a week or so old. I am surprised the rain has not washed them away."

"Fairly sheltered under this tree, no?" added Gimli. "Should we scout around the area?"

"Definitely," the elf replied.

The three of them, now looking worried, began to move around the area, searching for any sign that a wounded person may have passed that way. After nearly ten minutes of searching, two deeper into the woods and one back out to the field, Enguina stumbled upon another blood trail. Looking away, she crossed quickly behind another tree before she caught the stench of death and gagged, immediately putting her hand over her mouth and slamming her eyes shut. She stumbled backwards into another tree.

When she found her voice, she called out, "Legolas, Gimli…over here."

"What did you find?" Legolas said, and she could hear Gimli tromping through the woods to get over to her. She pointed towards the tree when he touched her arm. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "It is the blood; I will be fine. The man is over there," she said, "or what is left of him." Legolas turned and went around the tree, giving it a wide berth. Gimli met him there, both of them covering their mouths and noses to protect themselves.

"Ugh," said Gimli. "Why was this man killed in the woods? This wasn't an animal's doing."

"He was a Ranger," Legolas stated, covering his heart with his hand as he heard Enguina murmuring a prayer for the man's soul. "You can tell by what is left of his clothing. Most of him has been carried off by scavengers. I wonder what happened to him."

"Shall we bury him?" asked Enguina softly.

"No, burning him would be best now," replied Gimli. "He's been dead quite a while; at least the animals won't carry off anymore of him."

"How awful," she said. "Who would do this?"

"With arrows no less." Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. I thought perhaps he may have been killed during your kidnapping a few months ago, but he has not been dead for that long, and we had not come this far west. Come; let us take care of this before Faramir and Éowyn arrive." He looked over to her and found her sad. "Are you all right, meleth?"

"Is this a bad omen?" she said, crossing her arms. "Perhaps this is not the best choice for us to make a home, Legolas." She looked cold, and so he went to her, wrapping an arm around her. He found her eyes were fixed on the blood trail, but that she could not look at the figure.

"It is all right. Let Gimli and I handle this. How about you go back to the horses and make sure they are settled in? Perhaps even begin setting up camp?" he suggested, rubbing her arms with both of his hands. He stood in front of her, blocking the tree from view. "You do not need to see any more blood."

She nodded as he kissed her forehead, and then she turned away to do as he said.

* * *

"What about _these_?" cried Annî as she snatched up a bunch of white daises and held them out to Arwen. " _These_ are perfect!"

"I agree, chên nîn," Arwen said with a smile, and she added them to Annî's growing bouquet of flowers. "Now, any others beside white and blue?" The little red-head turned back to the stand, looking for other colors.

Arwen remained crouched, letting Annî do all of the choosing. She had made time for them in the market today, and Annî was getting in to _everything_. Faramir had not been wrong when he had warned her that the little girl could be exhausting. It was not that she did not listen either; it was simply that everything that was filthy went through her hands and everything that she could possibly get on herself was on her dress. She _was_ into everything; and Arwen had given up two days ago on keeping her clean during the day, and so enjoyed the time that they all had together giving Annî bath time at night. She and Aragorn discovered after the first day not to give Annî a bath _before_ a meal, no matter how dirty she was, and so at the King's House there was playtime, naptime, dinnertime, bath time, and then much needed sleep.

But she was enjoying herself so much spending time with Annî that she had not made time to do much else. Annî was easily amused by every place Arwen took her; she could make visits and accomplish her plans for the day with Annî at her side as everyone she visited loved the little girl. Following those visits, she still had loads of time to play in the garden, visit the horses, take Annî to the goats, wander in the market, sing, dance, laugh…her days were full of Annî, and her nights were full of sleep for the first time in three months. Having Annî in her life had halted her nightmares, and having Enguina away getting peace with Legolas had halted worries for them as well. No, the only thing at the moment that brought pain to her heart was the knowledge that this time she had with the little one would not last forever.

"Oh, milady, ain't she the sweetest thing?" laughed Sibil, the flower-woman. Her stand in the market was so popular in spring; she could hardly keep enough flowers to go around. But she had stopped her sales for a few moments so that Annî could pick her favorites for the chains they were going to make.

"Perfectly darling," Arwen replied, smiling at her. "Thank you, Sibil, for giving her time."

"Not at all!" she laughed as Annî grabbed a handful of pink flowers and thrust them towards Arwen, with a cry of 'Here, Tiriel!' "I wish the little bundle of joy would visit me every day! I love her little rosy cheeks and fiery hair!" The older woman laughed. "She reminds me so much of her father when he was a little boy. Oh my, that was so many years ago now; it's hard to imagine him that small, I know…but 'e was!"

Arwen smiled, gathering the flowers together as Annî ran back to the stand. "Oh?"

"Ah, if ya ask any of the old folk in Minas Tirith," said Sibil with a grin, "you'll find many of us remember the Steward's sons when they were young. Why, he and Boromir used to run through the market like little wildmen! Boromir would knock something over and little Faramir would pick it up again!" She laughed. "She's so much like him. Into everything, yet cares about everything. Her mother is a lovely thing, too. Lord Faramir couldn't have done much better."

"No, he could not," Arwen agreed.

"And to have another one on the way!" Sibil rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever she'll do with _two_ of them, I've no idea. When are they due to return?"

"Not too quickly, I hope," Arwen admitted as Annî ran back to her with another handful of flowers, these yellow. "A few weeks at most," she added to Sibil and then said to Annî, "Is that all?"

"A few more?" the little girl asked, and Arwen nodded, running her fingers through her red hair. Annî scooted back to the cart, looking over the flowers again. Several onlookers began to smile and laugh at her as well, enjoying the innocence of her youth.

"Enjoy the time with her, milady," Sibil said with a smile. "She's more precious than gold, she is." By the time Annî had picked the last of her flowers and Sibil had refused payment saying they were her gift to the daughter of the Prince of Ithilien, Arwen could do nothing but agree with her words.

Annî grabbed her hand and tugged. "Tiriel, before we go home, can we see Brego and give him an apple?"

Arwen looked down at her with mock surprise. " _Only_ Brego?"

"Well, he is the biggest," she said, matter-of-factly, "so he needs the most food. But I think Afalof can have one, too."

"Oh, well that is nice of you to think of him," she replied, nearly giggling at Annî's way of pronouncing their names.

"Wait, Tiriel!" she said, pulling Arwen to a stop and staring up at her with wide eyes, and holding a hand up in the air. "We didn't get any apples!"

Arwen smiled at her. "Where are we going to get apples, Annî?"

The little girl stood still, her face confused for several moments as she tried to work out where they _were_ going to get apples. She looked around, and then looked back into Arwen's face. "I don't know," she said sadly, now holding both hands up in the air. "Maybe Tirion has some?"

Arwen smiled, leaning down by her. "Tirion is working right now, and we cannot bother him." She reached out and touched the end of Annî's nose with her finger. "But _I_ know just the place to get some apples."

Annî's entire face lit up. "You _do_?" she squealed, clapping her hands. "Apples! Apples for Brego and Afalof! Let's get _apples_ , Tiriel!"

Arwen stood and extended her hand and Annî grasped it, and the two of them made their way toward the fruit seller, Annî skipping with happiness all the way.

* * *

It was evening, and the moon had not yet risen over Ithilien. Legolas was seated with his back against a tree, watching his lovely one sleep; she appeared peaceful and still, and he expected, for the fourth evening in a row, that there would be no nightmares. He thanked Ilúvatar since they had left Minas Tirith that He had finally brought her some peace. This journey, this quiet time away from the chaos, appeared to have been exactly what she had needed. He reached out and touched her face with his fingertips, just gently brushing her skin and a slow smile came on her lips. He did not wish to wake her, but it appeared that whatever she _had_ been dreaming, he had just made it sweeter. Hearing Gimli snoring off to his left, he smiled to himself and raised his head, just in time to see Faramir rise and take a few steps toward the starlit glade. He had thought Faramir asleep, so it surprised him now to see him wide-awake. He rose then himself and made his way to the man's side.

"Is something troubling you, Faramir?" he asked softly, but Faramir did not turn to him.

"This is a beautiful glade," he replied, his voice equally soft; a conversation not to be overheard then. "I hope finding the body of a fellow Ranger will not change your mind if you are thinking of settling here. It would be a perfect place to raise a family."

"There might well be others," Legolas replied thoughtfully. "We have only been in Ithilien a few days; neither one of us have our hearts set on anything yet." Faramir nodded, and Legolas changed the subject. "What _do_ you think of the Ranger we found?"

"I do not understand why anyone would have reason to kill one of my men, especially Loth; he was a quiet man. Unless they had something to hide, and I cannot understand why he would have revealed himself unless they were suspicious characters. Travelers are easily welcomed in this land now, so I find it very odd indeed that this has happened."

"Should we try to hunt who did this?"

Faramir shook his head. "No, I think not. I do think, however, that it might be a good idea to head a little further east towards Henneth Annûn. Even though we are on a journey of little importance to anyone but ourselves, it is my duty to inform my men of his death." He frowned. "It might also be a good place to find news about our strange murderer. Perhaps the Rangers will have news."

Legolas nodded. "I agree. I know I speak for Gimli when I say that I would prefer to keep our loved ones out of danger if possible; I know this is true for you as well."

Faramir smiled suddenly as he glanced back at Éowyn's sleeping form. "She is exhausted. She may not look it, she may fight it with all the strength inside her, but she is. I am worried for her." He looked back to the elf. "Yet another reason to head for Henneth Annûn."

"You think she will be more comfortable there?"

"I _know_ she will," he stated with a snort. "A comfortable bed, a pillow, and a bit of shelter over her head? She would tell you she is fine where she is, but I can see it in her." He shook his head. "Perhaps it was not the best idea to bring her along."

"No, it _was_ , Faramir," Legolas insisted. "Think of all of the good you have done. You and Éowyn have received a break from your busy lives, Enguina has female company, Annî is enjoying the time spent with Aragorn and Arwen, and _they_ are spending time with a child. This is all very good."

Faramir winced. "I was not sure they were ready, though Aragorn sought to convince me."

"He is right; they just need time," he said gently. "But I agree with you, turning ourselves toward the direction of the Forbidden Pool sounds like an excellent idea." He touched Faramir on the shoulder. "And stop worrying about Éowyn; she knows enough to take it easy. Go and get some sleep."

The man nodded and then gave Legolas a little smile. "If I said that to you, would you stop worrying about Enguina?"

"No," Legolas said honestly. "But it would make me feel better that someone thinks I need not worry; the reassurance helps."

Faramir gave a soft laugh. "Too right you are, Legolas. For the record, it does make me feel a bit better. Perhaps we should _both_ get some sleep."

Legolas nodded, and then his sharp hearing picked up the slightest whimper. "Good night, Faramir," he said, and the man stepped the few paces back to Éowyn. Legolas immediately turned back to his bedroll, hoping he was hearing things.

He was not; Enguina lay just as she had been, but a sweat had broken out on her forehead, and her lips were set in a firm line, her jaw tightly clenched, her teeth grinding together, her hands wrapped in her blanket like vices.

" _No…_ " she muttered, her voice breaking through the quiet night. He knelt down beside her and touched her face for a moment. No matter what this nightmare was about, he was going to wake her; she had not had one in four days—why now?

Taking her shoulder in his hand, he firmly said her name and shook her once. This did not rouse her, and so he said her name again and shook her harder. She woke with a _jolt_ , her eyes blinking and a gasp on her lips. She registered that he was there, and for a moment he saw a familiar flash of terror in her eyes. He released her shoulder, and then suddenly found her form pressed against him, her arms tightening around his waist as she clutched herself to him.

" _Oh...sweet Ilúvatar…_ "

He wrapped one of his arms around her, tangling the other in her hair and stroking her head. Never before had he been near her in a nightmare where she had fled to his arms willingly. This must be something completely different. Even when he was sitting with her when she dreamed of Dagnirhir, she did not run to him so readily; he was forced to draw her out.

"What is it, _moina quén_? Are you all right?" he asked her.

She kept her eyes firmly shut, breathing in the scent of him, pressing her face to his chest, her fingers scrambling against his back. Yet, even this was not enough, and she lifted her head just high enough to press her cheek to the skin of his chest were his tunic hung open; where she could hear his heartbeat. She breathed a few times, more slowly, and then he felt some of the tension release in her back and felt her sigh.

"You are _here_ ," she whispered, her voice full of exhaustion and relief, "and you are safe."

"Here? Safe?" he asked gently into her ear, confusion evident. "Of course I am here with you; of course I am safe. Guin, you were dreaming; that is all."

"It was so real," she replied. "You were…covered…"

"Covered? With what?" he asked, pulling back just enough from her so she lifted her face from his chest. She looked up into his face.

" _Blood_ …" she uttered with horror. "You were…" she swallowed hard. "You were _dead_ …and I could only see you from a distance…and there were _crows_ …" His stomach turned as he saw her face grow pale.

"Guin, Guin," he said, tucking her head beneath his chin and laying a cheek against her hair, "it was just a dream, brought on by what you saw today that you should not have had to see. Everything is all right."

"I had never seen a corpse before," she whispered. "The blood alone was so awful, but the rest…Legolas, I do not want to see anything like that ever again. That poor man, left to die alone against that tree so that animals could—"

"Stop," he warned smoothly. "Get the image out of your mind before you make yourself sick. It was only a dream, and I am fine. _Here_ , in your arms, where there is no better place."

"It makes me feel ill to think that I dreamed about you that way. I…cannot lose you now, Legolas," she said honestly. "I cannot lose you."

"You are not going to lose me," he reassured her. "Do not say such things. We are going to make our way to the outpost where Faramir's men are stationed; there he will find out what happened to Loth. Do not take what you saw and let your imagination run wild; that is foolishness. It is not going to happen."

He heard Enguina sigh. "Forgive me, Legolas. I have a habit of turning bad thoughts into worse." She loosened her grip on him and leaned back to look into his face. "I cannot imagine being without you now."

"You do not have to," he told her, taking her hands in his own. "We are together; we will be together always. Nothing will change that."

"Nothing?" he heard her whisper, and he dipped his head to look directly into her eyes.

"You continue to ask me that, yet my answer remains the same. What Ilúvatar has brought together, let no man and no thing separate. I am yours and you are mine; forever. Stop these evil thoughts," he added, stroking her cheek. "I love you…and no matter what I will love you until the stars burn out."

Enguina wanted to tell him; right at that moment she wanted to tell him the truth about her past, about what had happened to her. She wanted to be honest with him, to hear him say that he loved her despite what she had been through, have him hold her and comfort her, even pray for her…but she simply could not find the words. He seemed to understand, as the moments passed by and she continued to simply look at him.

He gave her a little smile as he stroked her cheek. "You know," he teased softly, "a declaration of love such as that one should not go unanswered." She was silent for a moment.

"Until the stars burn out?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can I not be poetic?"

"My heart cannot survive your poetry," she replied with a laugh. "Remember what happened last time?" He reached up and stroked her face from temple to chin.

"When we are married, Guin, I shall write you poetry all the time."

Her eyes fluttered closed as he drew near. "Oh, my knees grow weak at the thought."

" _Good_ ," he said, and kissed her.

Within a few moments, she had forgotten the nightmare.

* * *

Pillows lined the divan where they had made Annî's bed so she would not roll off in the night. She was sound asleep at the moment, tucked in by a blanket; a ring of flowers was in her wet hair, as she refused to go to sleep without wearing them. Aragorn knelt beside her little bed, balancing on his bare toes, his fingers stroking the side of her face as he has just finished a song for her. Arwen stood by, leaning against the stone hearth; it was warm enough for Annî tonight that they did not have a fire lit.

He looked over to her and up into her face, a circlet of flowers in her hair as well, but she turned her face away, pushing off the wall and moving towards their bedroom. Yes, he had seen the tears in her eyes, but if she had wanted to be comforted, she would have waited for him. She did not wish to talk about it tonight; he should not chase her. Leaning over, he brushed his lips gently against Annî's forehead and then rose to his feet.

"Sleep well, little one," he said softly, and then followed Arwen into the bedroom.

She was not present when he entered, so he assumed her in the bath taking the flowers out and letting down her hair. Changing into his sleep tunic and leggings, he turned back to the bed to find her standing beside it in her nightdress, watching him, quiet. He peeled back the covers, took his place in their bed, and reached over to snuff out the candle on the bedside table. The moonlight was enough to see by tonight, and he could see she had not moved. He lifted the covers for her.

"Come," he said gently, and she did, lying down in bed beside him as he covered them both with the sheet. Her back pressed against him, and as he swept her hair from her face, he felt wetness there; he tugged her even more tightly against him.

She was very still, and he was worried. "Do you want to talk about it, _melda_?" He felt her shake her head at his whispered words. He was not going to push her; he already knew exactly what both of them would say. Some nights were harder than others; some nights the grief was still too much.

So he let it go, but he knew very well that her face was wet with tears and the only thing that kept her from pacing the floor, unable to sleep, was his arm wrapped about around her, holding her tight.


	9. Chapter 9

Enguina knew that Arwen had told her, over and over again, that Gondor was beautiful country, and she had seen much proof in Ithilien the past six days of their travel. No words of Arwen's could have prepared her for the beauty that was Henneth Annûn. She would forever remember this moment; sitting in Legolas's arms out in the starlight on the edge of the outermost rocks where flowers were blooming just out of the cliffside, where the water tumbled down the rocks and into the pool below. How beautiful it was; how it moved her heart! She was completely lost in this moment, her head resting upon his shoulder, with his head resting upon hers.

They had watched the sun fade in all its glorious splendor, the sky tumultuous shades of reds, purples, and oranges. There had been little talk between the five of them, as it had been some time since even Faramir had set foot in this place, and they were each enjoying it in their own way. Gimli had gathered a dinner for them, and so they had eaten outside as Faramir told stories of his days as a Ranger in Ithilien and his brother. Legolas enjoyed hearing him weave those tales as much as everyone else had, and the place they sat now held special significance for the man. It amazed him that a place he had judged to simply be a bit of stone and a tunnel underground could hold so much beauty. He reminded himself to stop judging places simply because of the way that appeared at first glance.

"I am amazed," Enguina whispered to him, and he was happy to have his thoughts interrupted by her voice.

"As am I," he replied, glancing over at Faramir, "my friends continually surprise me." Faramir sat, staring out into the starlight just as they were, leaning against the side of the cave wall, Éowyn lying enclosed in his arms, fast asleep against his chest. His arms held her against himself and she seemed warm and safe.

"Never before had I ever worried what the world outside of Lothlórien was like. Now, the more I see of it, the more I wonder why I never thought to look before," Enguina continued. "Even Gondor astounds me." She lifted her head to turn and look at him. "Each time we ride into the City, I still find it hard to look up and not be amazed when I see the gorgeous white stone glittering in the morning light. And so tall, so full of grandeur! I cannot believe that men actually took the time to make something so beautiful, and to carve it out of a mountainside!"

"Ah, Minas Tirith; a fine picture of stonework, lass," said Gimli from nearby, as he smoked on his pipe. He, too, could not help but gaze out upon the stars. "Gondor is a picture of a beauty; a fine tribute to what men and a few pick axes can do."

Legolas laughed softly, and turned to smile at his friend. "You would know, my good friend. Your kin did some fine work restoring the outer walls. I cannot even begin to imagine what the Glittering Caves shall look like when they have completed their homes."

"Dwarves from all around shall be amazed to come and see the work we've finished there," Gimli stated with pride, "and they shall want to live there, too! What a beautiful place to spend the rest of your days!"

"I am not certain I could live underground," Enguina said softly. "I struggled to not hold my breath through the front entrance here, and sometimes I want to close my eyes when I walk through the passage from the stable to the Citadel. I appreciate the open air too much." Legolas nodded and Gimli thought about that for a moment. Silence fell between them for a few moments as each one thought about her words.

Just as Legolas was about to speak, Gimli said abruptly, "Well…caves _are_ probably overvalued."

Legolas stared at him with surprise. "Gimli, do not say that you are having second thoughts about returning to the Glittering Caves with your kin?"

Gimli shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "Of course I'm not," he insisted gruffly. "I'm just saying that there are many wonderful places in Middle-Earth to live, not the least of which are caves, there is beauty to be found in forests as well. That's all." And there was silence, as he said no more on the matter.

"Gimli—" Legolas began, but he felt Enguina's hand on his arm. He looked down at her and saw in her eyes that she asked him to let it go for now. He was confused, but he obeyed her. "What did you think of the sunset?"

"It looked like the Caves do in my memory," he said, nodding appreciatively. "All the colors all blending together…it's quite a vision."

"Is that what the Caves look like?" said Enguina with a bit of wonder.

"Oh yes," replied Gimli, puffing on his pipe, "colors of every shade, stalactites building from the ceiling in reds and oranges and whites…such as the most colorful sunrise. Ah, what glory to live there!"

Enguina smiled. "It sounds so lovely. Perhaps one day, if I could convince myself to enter, I would love to see it."

"You'll see it, lass," Gimli laughed, "when you and the lad come and visit with your twenty children!"

"Twenty!" exclaimed Faramir softly, careful not to wake his wife. "You are making some rather large assumptions there, Gimli."

"Twenty is such a lovely number," stated Legolas, and Enguina looked up into his face with eyes as large as saucers.

" _Twenty?_ You are both _mad_! It is a completely unreasonable number, and you know it. Whatever would we _do_ with twenty children?"

Legolas laughed. "Corral them."

She rolled her eyes. "That…that is simply…that is utter nonsense. And we do not even know if we will be lucky enough to _have_ children."

"Oh," Legolas replied, shaking his head, "it is guaranteed."

"How is that, exactly?"

"I…am not at liberty to say, my love." But he waggled his eyebrows at her and she blushed crimson. Thankfully, her face was hidden by Legolas's shoulder from Gimli, so as she ducked it away she tried to change the subject.

"It was quite wonderful of Faramir to bring us here," she muttered.

"Indeed," said Legolas, and he laughed softly, "perhaps we should come _here_ upon the celebration of our marriage. It would be a beautiful place to celebrate."

"I do not think my men would much appreciate that, though they might take it as a hint for a holiday," Faramir replied softly. He ran his fingers through Éowyn's hair and Legolas laughed softly.

"You are probably right, my friend."

"You may want to avoid areas with many people," muttered Gimli, thinking about Legolas's comment about the twenty children, and Legolas burst into laughter. Embarrassed now by someone else other than Legolas, Enguina thought it time for some payback. Reaching out, she snatched up her fork and threw it at the dwarf, whacking him in the shoulder. He shouted, and then insisted, "I was only trying to say that you might want some privacy!"

Faramir nodded, full of humor. " _Certainly_ , Gimli…we all understood _exactly_ what you meant." Gimli turned to look at him, caught the little gleam in the man's eye, and burst into a belly-jolting laugh. This sound woke Éowyn, who opened her eyes to hear all of them laughing. She looked towards the other couple and watched Enguina bury her flushed face into Legolas' neck and Legolas shaking his head.

"You all are too cruel," he said, but with good humor. "It is not as though we will create such a ruckus—"

"Legolas, _please_!" cried Enguina, her face heating up even more.

"What did I miss?" Éowyn asked softly, a smile on her face. She felt Faramir's hand stroke her hair and she looked up at him. "Why is Enguina so embarrassed?"

"Just a tease, love," he said with a short laugh. "You know that our dwarf is quite good at those."

"Me?" cried Gimli indignantly. " _You're_ the one who made it out that I said something that I didn't say! Or that I _did_ say something but that it wasn't meant to sound as _you_ made it sound to be!"

"We all knew exactly what you meant, Master Dwarf," replied Faramir flatly, "you simply tried to say it in a more civilized manner than the rest of us probably would have said." He nearly snorted with laughter, "And you were right to speak it!"

Éowyn shook her head and returned it to Faramir's chest. "You are all too silly for the tired."

Enguina kept her head in Legolas' neck, but muttered, "I agree."

"You only agree, love," whispered Legolas, "because you wish to leave the subject."

"Now leave her be," said Éowyn, coming to the elf's defense but with a smile on her face. "I think she has had enough."

"Thank you, Éowyn," Enguina replied, rubbing her face against Legolas's tunic.

He became a bit more serious, and tucked his head down close to hers so that his lips brushed her ear. "Do you not wish to be alone with me…as I wish very much to be alone with you?"

She trembled, and she could hardly identify if it was out of fear or desire. " _Oh, Legolas…_ " came her breathless reply. _Desire…definitely desire…_ She could barely function, feeling his breath on her ear, the way his words were murmured with such effectiveness. Fire coursed through her veins and her hands tightened on the arm that held her against him.

" _I take it that is a yes_ ," he continued, still far too close to her. She was so uncomfortable in that moment; she did not know what to do. She certainly could not answer him, and yet, how could she remain silent? Was he not expecting a response? What should she—

"Enguina, how are you enjoying Ithilien?"

Saved by Faramir! She was so surprised by someone else addressing her in a rather loud voice instead of Legolas's hushed whisper that her body jolted in Legolas's arms. He chuckled, and she blushed crimson, but she pulled her head away from his and tried to respond to the question.

"Very much, Faramir," she replied. Everything within her screamed to get out of Legolas's arms, to take revenge on him for putting her in this position, but instead she remained.

"It is wonderful," Éowyn added softly, her voice still tired from riding all day. "Ithilien is a beautiful place to be out together, enjoying each other's company, riding and camping…" She drifted off, clearly thinking, and Enguina watched as she laid her hands over her womb.

"But you feel something's missing?" laughed Gimli. "What could possibly be missing?"

"Our little pearl," said Faramir, and Éowyn looked up into his face as he smiled. "Yes, I miss her, too. I wonder how she is behaving at home. I bet she is giving Aragorn and Arwen a run for it."

Legolas grinned. "I would bet, even if that were the case, that they are enjoying every minute of it. Even if she is trouble, I am sure the time together is well-spent."

"You aren't worried about her, are you?" asked Gimli, a bit surprised.

"Of course we are worried," Éowyn said, sighing. "She is not at my side; I cannot see her. Therefore, I worry." Faramir covered her hand with his own. "I trust them with my life, with Faramir's life…but it is hard to trust anyone with your baby." She looked over to Enguina, and then Legolas and Gimli, her face sad. "You cannot…you cannot understand, you are not a mother and neither one of you are fathers. But if you were, you would understand the anxiety of my heart."

"And it is not only that," Faramir said gently, looking a bit guilty. "No one ever lays blame on us for what happened with the elves that attacked the Citadel in January, but if I were Aragorn…I would not be able to help myself thinking about it every time I looked at Annî."

"Peace, Faramir," Legolas began, holding up his hand. "No one would blame either one of you. You would have given your lives if you could have, just as Arwen or Aragorn would give theirs for Annî."

"There are moments when…I feel as though I…" Éowyn hesitated, meeting Enguina's gaze. "There are moments when I think Arwen may never heal. I grieve for her. I can hold my daughter," she added, rubbing her belly gently, "and I know what I would be like if I…if I lost her."

"You're right, Éowyn," Gimli stated, "Arwen may never heal. A loss like that can break a heart. But you know what? She'll eventually learn to live with the grief; all of us will face loss in our time. It's sad and terrible, but they've still got each other."

Enguina looked at him sadly. "But Gimli, you do not understand. That is not the way of our people, to find a way to live with great grief," she spoke softly, and she felt Legolas's hand on her back.

"Well, what do they do then?"

"Leave Middle-Earth," Legolas said softly. "Elves find everlasting peace in the Undying Lands when grief or pain or suffering threatens to overcome them. That is our road; our place of peace."

"So…what're you saying exactly?" Gimli asked. "That if Arwen's grief is great enough she'll go over the Sea and leave us all here?"

"That is the point of what Enguina is trying to tell you, Gimli," Faramir stated. "Arwen cannot do that; she can never seek peace in Valinor; she gave up her immortality to be with Aragorn."

"So this loss that she feels…she will feel forever?" Éowyn asked softly, her heart aching for her friend. Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking.

"Yes," Enguina whispered, thinking of her own pain. "Elves feel things very deeply. It is likely that there will always be times she will experience that pain again." She knew how that was; thinking about her nightmares made her stiffen in Legolas's arms, and she felt him hold her more tightly.

"That's…miserable," stated Gimli.

"Did we make the wrong decision then, asking them to watch Annî?" Faramir asked, looking directly at Legolas as he spoke. The elf met his eyes evenly.

"No, it was a _good_ decision. They will rise to the occasion, and everything will be just fine. Do not fret, Faramir, Éowyn…Annî is very safe. You know very well they take the titles of Tirion and Tiriel very seriously."

* * *

It was not long after that when Faramir took Éowyn inside to sleep, and Gimli only stayed long enough after them to chastise them to come inside and take some rest. Enguina was ready to follow that order, but she did not find herself being released from Legolas's arms. So she sat there until Gimli had gone, and then she gave a little tug against him.

"Legolas—" she began as a warning, her voice level.

"A moment of your time, my Lady," he murmured. "We have an unfinished discussion that we should have, and another I would like to begin."

"How about," Enguina interrupted him, embarrassed, "we pass over the _first_ subject all together, touch briefly on the second, and then get to bed so we are ready for the morning?"

Legolas leaned back against the rock, meeting her eyes as he tilted her chin up and raised an eyebrow. "There is no escape from me. You should know this already."

"You _are_ a bit relentless."

"Indeed," he said with a grin, "a strong word, but true. So…the first subject." She groaned, and his grin grew. "You want to be alone with me as I wish to be alone with you, yet you think it a bad idea?"

She stared at him a moment. "I…Legolas, I do not think we should be having this discussion."

"We are having it already."

"We are alone, right now," she replied flippantly, and she saw his eyes darken…but not with anger.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it. Stop avoiding me; you are always running."

"There is a reason for that, you know," she said wryly, and then she sighed. "Legolas, if I were to be honest…"

"Yes?"

"If I were to be honest, I would never leave your side, _ever_. I would never let you be without me, not even in sleep." Her face looked a bit guilty as she said it. "Can you not see it in my face? That I want to be alone with you? Come now, Legolas, you know very well what your words and expressions do to me…what your _love_ does to me," she told him, her voice dropping to a whisper and she shook her head. "Do not pretend you do not notice."

"Oh, I notice," he whispered back. "But I cannot help the way I feel about you, the way I feel when I am around you." He stroked her cheek and held her face in that hand, looking into her eyes.

"I…have never felt for anyone what I am feeling for you," she said seriously. "This is completely new, Legolas…and I…do not know what to do with these feelings. Part of me does not even want to be alone with you anymore….and the other part of me _only_ wants to be alone with you." She blushed, embarrassed, and turned her head away, covering her cheeks with her hands. "Ilúvatar," she muttered to herself, "why am I telling you this?"

"Guin, I am feeling much the same way," he told her gently. _I_ _ **need**_ _to marry you. I want to hold you in my arms all night long; I want to touch you all over; I want to kiss your neck and press my lips to your shoulder and lay you down on your bed and learn your every curve, what your uncovered skin feels like under my hands…feel you tremble with love for me as I tremble with the force of my love for you…_

But he could say _none_ of those things. It might be time for her to be honest, but he was not ready to be honest about how he was feeling. How could he tell her that he wanted to make love with her when they had not even been wed? He wanted so badly to give himself to her; she was the first woman in his entire life that he wanted to share himself with. He had been attracted to other women, but he had never felt that he wished to spend his life with them. Enguina was his match, his heart, his mate. He knew; he could feel it…and part of him desperately wished he could talk to his father. How to deal with these feelings? How to address them? Should he tell her? Should he limit himself to being with her around others? He only had a little over a month and a half until they would be wed…could he restrain himself for so long? But how could he not? Did she _want_ him, _desire_ him, as he desired her?

"Legolas?"

Her voice yanked him out of his very inappropriate thoughts and he swallowed hard. "You know I simply say things to tease you, yes?" he asked, but the way she was eyeing him told him that he was blushing just as much as she had been.

"I think you just changed the subject to avoid telling me what you were thinking," she said suspiciously, and he gave her a sweet little smile.

"I promise you that if I thought you wanted to hear what I was thinking, I would absolutely tell you. But I swear you do _not_ want to know."

"That good, hmmm?"

"Yes," he stated, and he felt her sigh as she leaned her shoulder against him. Part of her wanted to know what he was thinking, was _desperate_ to know…but the rest of her did not wish to be embarrassed again, and so she let it go.

"We should go inside," she said softly, but she felt him curl a strand of her hair around his finger and she could not help but look up into his face again.

"Love, can we talk about your dream?"

She flinched. "I do not want to even think about you dying, Legolas. No, we cannot."

He shook his head, and she realized she had misunderstood his question. "I do not want to talk about your dream from two nights ago. That was something that bothered you once and has gone away. I want to talk about the recurring dream you have had."

His voice was gentle, but it did not matter. She had not thought of the dream in days and he was going to bring it up _now_? Her eyes closed, and her voice was low, annoyed as she replied, "I…I have had six days… _six_ _days_ of blissful sleep where I have not dreamed at all…and you want me to talk about it now? _No_."

She had been so relaxed against him and now she was about as responsive as a rock; he refused to back down. The moment could not be returned to what it was, so there was nowhere to go but forward. "Would it not be a better time to talk now? When they are not fresh in your mind, when you are not hurting yourself or pushing me away? Would it not be better—"

"I said _no_ ," she said firmly, pressing her hands against him and getting to her feet. "I will not, Legolas." He made no attempt to hold her there, but he also did not follow her. She did not go anywhere; she was not angry enough to do that, and she did not want to leave him. But if she had been, he would have let her go.

"The night is quiet and still," he said, his voice soft, and he watched her stiff shoulders come together even more. "It is a good night to be at peace, _moina quén_ ; it is a good night to _find_ peace. It is a good night to talk for a few more hours and lay things to rest for good. Come back down here and let me help shoulder your burden."

" _No_ ," she said, gritting her teeth. "I do not want to talk about it; I do not want to say one more word!" Her shoulders were so tight now she appeared like a branch pulled too taut. "I _cannot_ tell you, Legolas…I _will not_."

"Ever?"

"Maybe not ever," she growled, looking out into the night. "You cannot bear it; no one can. I have thought on it for days. No, no, _no_ ; there is no way I can ever tell you. No way…no way to find the words, no way to tell the truth…just… _no way_ —"

"Is it really that terrible?" he whispered, and she startled a bit when she found his voice was so near. He stood just behind her now; so close she could feel the warmth of him. "What happened…is it really that awful, so terrible that even when you can choose to be calm about it you cannot speak of it?"

"I will _not_ , Legolas!" she cried, and she felt the angry tears form in her eyes, her hands ball into fists. He had to let it go; he _had_ to.

Legolas could not help it—he pushed her. Ignoring Aragorn's counsel to be patient with her, he took Arwen's encouragement out of context and threw away all caution. "Enguina, what is your dream about?"

" _Legolas_ —" Both of them could feel the tension between them; it was like the air before a thunderstorm. Her voice saying his name was almost a warning, a _threat_.

"Is your dream about the past?" he asked, stepping forward, invading her space. She turned back and nearly ran into him. With him being that close, her anger fled, and she was left with a chill that cut to her bones.

"I-I—" she stammered, so uncertain how to respond.

" _Is_ it about the past?" His voice was still soft, but it was urgent, almost demanding.

"Yes," she answered, nearly choking on the word.

"Does it take place in Lothlórien?"

"Y—yes…" she stammered, her arms crossing to keep the warmth in her chest, her hands now felt like ice even though it was a warm spring night.

"Was Arwen there?"

" _Legolas—_ "

"Enguina, was she there?"

" _Yes_." She felt the tears begin to fall. She could _not_ tell him; she simply could _not!_

"Does the dream focus on your brother?"

" _No_ …" she whispered brokenly.

"Someone else?"

"Legolas _…please…I cannot_ …" Her words were a whisper, bordering on a whimper.

"Someone else, then," he stated; he was closer then, his face so close, yet he did not touch her. "Is it a man? Is there a man in your dream?"

She choked on her tears, her nails digging into her biceps. " _No, no…no, Legolas, please_ …"

He had the answer to that question, too…and this conversation was _killing_ him, tearing him up inside. But he _had_ to know; if he could just get her to talk to him! He swallowed hard, yet he still did not reach out to hold her, no matter how desperately he wanted to; if he touched her, all her words would end, not just her denials…and even then he could see through the lies.

"Is it…is it something you did? Or…was it something that was done to you?" he asked gently.

"Some…something _I_ did?" came her whispered words, horrified, stunned. Her heart cracked, her breathing becoming difficult. " _Something I did…my fault…_ " She lowered her face to her hands and the hot tears spilled through her fingers.

She had accepted that: Arwen's words that it had not been her fault, Aragorn's firm belief that a cruel man had done a cruel thing and that she had not done anything to lead the man to her, that he wanted what he had wanted and was going to take it no matter what. But at Legolas's question, the penetrating thought of what could _she_ personally have done differently came burning through her consciousness. _Could_ she have stopped him if she had fought harder? _Had_ she led him to believe at some point that she had really loved him? Did any of that even matter?

" _My fault_ …" she sobbed. She felt Legolas lay his hands on her arms and she let him; she _needed_ him to hold her, needed him to tell her everything was all right, that _she_ was going to be all right, that even if she could not tell him he would still love her, that he _did_ still love her.

He knew wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek to her head and her into his chest; guilt taking over his heart. "I am sorry…" he whispered, knowing he had hurt her; yes, _him_ …this time, it was all him. "I never meant to…I never meant to hurt you; I am _so_ sorry. It was not you; it was not… _none_ of this is your fault. Easy, _moina quén_ …it is all right…shh…"

She did not say anymore; she could not. But he knew at least one thing from that moment: the pain that was gnawing away at her, her nightmares, her dreams, were not of her doing, but she blamed herself for them. And he had just taken her fears and cast them back into her face. The reign of peacefulness that had been for six days was at an end—because of his own impatience. He cursed himself and his faults, thinking that it was inevitable now. The dream would return.

* * *

Aragorn sighed softly to himself, his attention sporadically on the councilmen before him at the table. He appreciated them, but he did not want to be here tonight. Just now, he wanted to be at home, playing on the floor with Annî and enjoying their time together. He would find himself drifting off, thinking of the child he should have been watching right now, and then his mind would drift to Arwen, thinking that she was fully capable of watching the child on her own. Then his thoughts would turn to holding Arwen in his arms these last few nights and how the silences were growing longer between them when Annî was not with them. It was not good, and he knew they needed to talk.

His attention returned with renewed interest for half a moment as he shook himself from the stupor he felt he was in. It amazed him immediately that just as he had been thinking about her, she was standing in the same room! He was startled, but her soft knock did not go unnoticed by the men of the council and all of them rose to their feet. There had been more respect among them in the past four months than there had been since she had been named Queen.

"My Lady," said Noldore with a bow and a smile as she curtseyed and the other men at the table bowed to her. "What brings you to the Council this evening?"

"Good evening, my Lords…please forgive my intrusion," she said, in her soft tones but she had a smile for them. "If you would take an interlude from your important business, I would speak with the King for a moment."

With how nicely she spoke, how could they refuse her? Dintîr held out his hand and took hers, planting a kiss on the back. "My Lady, the Council would never deny you the pleasure of speaking with your husband."

She laughed with some of the councilmen. "Dintîr, you are too kind. You know I would normally not interrupt you, but—"

"There is no need to explain, your Highness," said Nardur from across the table. As Aragorn began walking towards her, his palms were sweating. Nardur continued, "We were involved in a serious discussion, but it can wait until tomorrow. I am certain everyone would like to call it an evening."

There was much agreement from the men around the table. Arwen gave Nardur her most sincere of smiles and curtseyed again. "Your kindness is appreciated, my Lords."

Aragorn stepped over to Arwen's side and she smiled at him, taking his arm. He could read nothing in her eyes, and that worried him a bit. Arwen _never_ came to speak with him here; she _never_ entered the council chambers simply because she wished to avoid many of the men altogether. She had only been in the council chambers one time for every year they had been married.

"My Lord, your documents?" asked Noldore, pointing down the end of the table.

Aragorn nodded. "Thank you, Noldore, but I will return and get them in a few moments," he replied. "Have a good evening, gentlemen. We will see one another in the morning."

"Oh, and might I add," Nardur said as they were headed to the door, "that it is very nice to see you so well again, my Lady."

After their calls of goodnight, the couple went out the door. When they had stepped from the doorway and were almost down the hall from the meeting room, Arwen finally stopped. He turned to look at her, and he could not help the furrow of worry that appeared in his brow. Over her shoulder, he saw two guards come out of one of the rooms nearby and go down the hall. Startled again, he looked down into her eyes.

"Arwen, what is the matter? You almost _never_ come to the meeting room. Why are there _guards_ searching the rooms? What has happened that—"

She placed her fingertips over his lips as a little worry appeared in her eyes. "They are helping me search for Andúnêiel."

"What?" he asked, pulling his head back from her fingers, his eyes widening with instant alarm. She shook her head quickly.

"Before you drive yourself mad with panic," she said, fairly amused at the expression on his face, "it is not as worrisome as it seems. Andúnêiel and I were playing hide-and-find; I am certain you understand the premise: she hides, I find her. However, the game would be _so_ much lovelier if it was going as planned. I cannot find her now, and I have been searching for nearly an hour."

Aragorn looked exasperated. "Let me fully understand this: you were playing a game of hide-and-find, with _Annî_ , _Faramir's_ daughter, in the _Tower of Ecthelion_?" he asked for clarification. "Please tell me that you simply were not thinking…that it was not _your_ idea to do this? Tell me it was hers and she forced you, but do not tell me that with all of the rooms in here you thought that she could not hide for hours and hours and you would _never_ be able to find her."

She smiled at him very sweetly—almost too sweet. "To be honest, melda, the problem is not that she ran and hid in one of the rooms." She raised her eyebrows at him. "The trouble is that I do not believe she understands the whole idea of the game. I believe she is _moving_ before I actually catch her. She thinks that she is supposed to run and hide again when I get close." She laughed softly. "And it _was_ my idea. You were late for dinner and Annî wanted something to do, and I thought it would be perfectly wonderful to wait for you here and pass the time with a game of hide-and-find."

Aragorn rolled his eyes heavenward and lowered his head into his hands. "You are going to be the death of me, Arwen. Now what?" _Ilúvatar, grant me strength!_

"Do not worry so much!" she laughed softly at him, pulling his hands from his face and squeezing them in her own. "She will be found. I simply did not want you to worry if you saw several guards continue to pass the meeting room. I will find her momentarily."

"Well, you made quick work of the rest of that meeting," he added as he watched the councilmen heading towards the stairs to the first level of Ecthelion. "I must thank you in any case for that." He looked back at her. "What if she is trapped somewhere?"

"She is not, Aragorn," Arwen said with patience. "I have heard her giggling all around these halls. Trust me."

He simply looked at her. "You know that I trust you completely, Arwen; it is the two year-old girl that I do not trust!" He turned, and as he did he could have sworn he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flashed back over her shoulder, and he thought he might have _just_ caught the sight of the hem of a little yellow dress fleeing up the stairs.

"There," he said, and released Arwen to run up the stairs as the little girl's giggling fell on both of their ears. Arwen turned and watched him run, laughing at the antics a little girl could bring out in them.

"Lady Arwen," Hildanir said, coming to her side as she turned at the sound of her name, "we have searched all the rooms and we still have not found her. Should we—"

"Thank you, Hildanir," she said, smiling, "the little one _just_ ran up to the next level." She could hear Mennev mutter something under his breath, but she only smiled at him. "I thank you both for your help, but the King is right on her tail and I am _certain_ that she will be caught within a few minutes."

Hildanir shook his head. "She is a little stinker, is she not?" he laughed, as Arwen nodded, and Mennev rolled his eyes.

"She isn't that funny, Hildanir," he groaned. "We've been looking for nearly half an hour for her. You know what we'll do, my Lady? We'll stand just outside the Tower steps, just in case she decides to come down and you miss her."

"That would be very kind of you, Captain," Arwen said. "I know the King would thank you for your efforts."

"Come on, Lieutenant," Mennev said to Hildanir, and the two men headed down the hall as Arwen, laughing to herself, lifted her skirts and hurried barefoot up the steps after her husband.

* * *

"She is fast," Aragorn panted, bending over and resting his hands on his knees, trying to regain his air. "The little bugger is fast."

"Too fast," agreed Arwen with a giggle, leaning against the Tower wall. She looked down at him and smiled. They had been chasing Annî higher into the Tower over the past hour, and still she had not given up; they simply could not lay their hands on her fast enough to stop her. "At this rate, she will take us to the very top levels of Ecthelion." She glanced up the stairs. She could not believe the little girl was so quick to slip past _both_ of them; perhaps one of them, but both? Unheard of! She thought for sure that Aragorn would have been able to catch her, yet she continued to slip past them so quickly that he had no time to reach out and snatch her. She rested a hand on his back. "Can your old legs handle this much exercise?" The humor in her voice turned his head to meet her eyes.

"My legs are _not_ old, ageless one," he returned easily, "and you are quite cruel in your assessment. _You_ are just as out of breath as I am, and if there weren't so many stairs, you know very well we would have caught her by now. There are simply too many places to hide in this Tower! _And_ were it not for _you_ , she would not be lost at all."

"Me?" Arwen said indignantly. "It is hardly _my_ fault—"

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Was it not _you_ that brought her in here?"

"To wait for _you_ —"

"Was it not _you_ that chose to pass the time playing this silly game?"

" _Silly_ —?" The look on her face grew more incensed as he cut her off again.

"Was it not _you_ that led her to believe the rules were different?"

"That is a rude assumption!"

" _You_ are to blame, love," he said with a bright smile as he poked her in the nose, "and you can hardly deny it." Her arms crossed and she glared at him.

"You are unfair," she said nastily. "Annî and I were simply waiting for you, and she was aching with boredom. I hoped to pass the time with this game, but _obviously_ , like _you_ , she lives a very sheltered life and has never played it before."

"I did _not_ lead a sheltered life," he said adamantly, if it was possible to say anything adamantly half upside-down. "And I _have_ played it before! Your brothers and I used to play it all the time, but I actually understood the rules before we played…unlike someone else I know who never made sure she understood them," he finished, half-muttering.

Arwen sighed with frustration and threw her arms in the air. "Well, we cannot catch her, and we cannot _find_ her, so then what are we supposed to do?"

He straightened and sighed as well, crossing his arms. "Honestly? I have no idea, but I cannot imagine doing this until all hours of the morning."

"Perhaps," Arwen began thoughtfully, and Aragorn looked closely at her, convinced there was something in her countenance that seemed almost sly, "if we asked her to come out instead of chasing her—"

He snorted and then laughed outright. "That will _never_ work. Children do not come when called!" He thought about it for a moment. "At least, I never did."

"So the rebellion of your youth comes out," Arwen teased him, sticking a finger under his nose. "Honestly, Arwen," he sighed, "in hindsight, you must admit that the Tower of Ecthelion was _not_ the ideal place to have a game of hide-and-find, even if our little darling had understood the rules in the first place."

Before he could blink, Aragorn felt his back flat up against the wall, and Arwen's body pressing against him. His breathing halted; he was a little stunned, and he stared into her sparkling eyes that were so close he could brush noses with her. He moved to take her arms in his hands, but she slipped out of them and beneath his guard, and he felt her every curve.

"If _you_ had not been busy, love," she said, her hands tugging his arms away from her, "the child could have been watched by both of us…"

"Arwen…" he muttered, but he was completely thrown off guard by this sudden change in her. His mind was a blur, in a panic; there were maids in the upper levels of Ecthelion and he did not want them murmuring about them behind their backs if they saw them in _such_ a public display. But…if he was honest with himself, he was forgetting about anything that he was supposed to be thinking of. She was far too near, she was his wife, and he was _very much_ just a man in this moment.

"…or she could have been _sleeping_ …" she whispered, her eyes almost closed, her nose brushing his, her breath on his lips, her hands on his face, her fingers on his ears.

"Arwen," he murmured, but it was a lost cause. Her name was not said with caution or anything that might have resembled worry; he had clearly lost himself to her in a matter of seconds. He had murmured her name with desire, and all thought of a lost child they had been searching for left his mind as she pressed forward and brought her lips to his.

That was when Arwen heard it: a softly uttered tone of disgust. The little girl who knew they were no longer searching for her came to see what the reason was, and had found them kissing.

" _Got you_ ," Arwen muttered and Aragorn opened his eyes in confusion just as Arwen released him suddenly. She whirled and let out half a growl of laughter as she lunged for the girl who screamed and tried to run away, laughing hilariously.

Aragorn stood trying to put himself back together as Arwen scooped Annî up and began planting kisses all over her face while the little girl went into fits of laughter. It _had_ been a very good trick, _and_ it had paid off…even if it had been _abominable_ to treat him that way. He stood up straight slowly, letting out the breath he seemed to have not been able to catch.

He found himself grinning at Annî as she giggled and reached for him. "You are so quick, Annî!" he said to her and she laughed. "I thought we would _never_ catch you."

"You couldn't catch me! Neither of you!" she cried with more laughter. He leaned over and roughly kissed her forehead.

"Well, Tiriel has you now."

"Now what?" the little girl asked, wrapping her arms once more around Arwen's neck. "Can we play again?"

"No," Arwen and Aragorn said together, and then Arwen laughed. "We are so tired from chasing you all over the Tower!"

"Maybe I can find _you_ this time!" she suggested.

Aragorn was getting them out of this without delay. "You know what? We are going to go up to the _very_ top of the Tower, and we are going to look out all across Gondor and see what we can see. What do you think of that?"

"Yea!" cried Andúnêiel, turning in Arwen's arms and pointing. "Let's _go_!"

"I will take her," Aragorn offered softly, and Annî scrambled into his arms, wrapping her arms around _his_ neck now. Holding her weight in one arm, he extended his other hand to Arwen. She smiled and took it and together, they walked towards the stairs.

* * *

She was lying in his arms, Andúnêiel in hers, and had been that way for some time. The sun had set and the stars had come, and now the moon was out. It cast light down upon them tonight, and the amazing sight was laid out before them. From this place they could see nearly all of Gondor, Osgiliath, and Mordor and even beyond to the edges of Rohan. The sight was positively breathtaking, and the night had begun to grow cold around them. The little girl had fallen asleep in Arwen's arms, and she was grateful that she had Aragorn's to warm her just as Annî had hers. She felt his breath warm on her cheek and smiled.

"It is so beautiful up here," Aragorn said softly in her ear, "with you."

"And to think there are some who say there is no beauty in Gondor," Arwen whispered in return, stroking the little girl's hair.

Aragorn smiled, pressing his lips to her ear; her eyes fluttered closed. "And I am holding all of that beauty in this moment. Am I not the most blessed man in the world?"

"Mmm, I have no doubt of that, my Lord," she said gently, and he kissed her ear again. She turned her face toward him, and opened her eyes, their noses brushing and her eyes looking deeply into his. "Ú-henio i naur ú-eglechle, Aragorn, [Do not begin the fire that you cannot put out, Aragorn,]" she said, her voice warm and low, "ú-si…[not here…]"

His face grew warm, and he smiled crookedly as he looked away from her eyes. "Edhored nin, melda; ensiar ú-reniant ninmen. [Forgive me, beloved; sometimes I forget my place.]"

"Lá, meleth, ú-matho foeg. Mel ú-hena i thenid geramet. [Nay, love, do not feel ashamed. Love does not comprehend the bounds we must have.]"

He laughed softly. "Cenich mel echedimet ormen? [Can you see us making love up here in the open?]"

She smiled at the thought. "Tancave," she replied, and he raised his eyebrows at her as she continued, "ananta ennas na heniath. [Yes, but there are too many eyes.]"

Annî was dead asleep in Arwen's arms, and so he lapsed back into the common tongue, shaking his head. "You did not seem to have any qualms about that a few levels down."

"Oh, Aragorn," she whispered, smiling as he rubbed his chin against her temple.

"You used me," he murmured, but she could hear the smile in his voice, " _most_ dreadfully. Your kissing I might have been able to withstand, but your wandering hands and your body pressed against mine? Sometimes I am just a man, Arwen…only a man."

"No, Aragorn," she sighed softly, "you are _never_ only a man." She reached up and stroked his hair, her arm tilted back behind his head, and he raised a hand to rest against the underneath of her arm as he turned his head, kissing it tenderly. He felt her turn her head into his neck and sigh longingly. "That felt so…wonderful." He brushed his lips there again and she tangled her fingers more deeply into his hair.

He held her arm there still, but he turned his head so he could touch her forehead with his lips. "Perhaps I should end," he teased gently, "before I begin the fire again."

"Nothing can come of it now," she whispered back, "and not with a child in my arms. Perhaps later, behind a closed bedroom door…"

He chuckled softly, kissing her forehead again. Then, he laid his cheek against her head. "Can we talk for a moment?"

There was a short silence. "About what, beloved?"

She already knew; she knew his heart, could feel his worry for her even as he asked the question. "Did we do the right thing…taking Annî into our care?"

"Of course," she whispered, "of course we did. You said yourself that they could not have taken her with them. Who else would they have found?"

"Arwen, these last few nights you have cried yourself to sleep," he reminded her as he took his hand up her arm and brought it down from his hair, laying his hand across hers and Annî at the same time. "You are hurting."

She was silent as she stared down at their hands, at Annî, and then she said, so quietly he more felt the words than heard them, " _I want you to be a father, Estel_ … _and I do not know if it will ever happen_."

He lifted a hand and stroked her face. "It will…and you will be a mother. When I see you with her, I look forward to the day when we will hold our own. It makes me _hope_ , Arwen, not despair."

"When I watched you, singing her to sleep last night," she said, her voice thick, "I could not help but remember when you held me in your arms and laid your head on my womb and sang softly to him, to _our_ baby. Oh, Estel…sometimes the pain is so sudden…and _strong_. It takes my heart and I _grieve_ …I want him here with us, in our arms, just as she is." She looked up into his face. "Do we have to give her back?"

"We must, beloved."

"I have spent the last few days in the market, in the streets with Annî, and though everyone sees her and loves her…I can see the…the… _pity_ in their eyes," she whispered. "We lost our child, and the whole city sees that and their faces…" She had to stop, unable to continue for a moment. "There are times when I imagine what it would have been like to hold him in my arms," she whispered, her voice so melancholy. "How he would have reached up and touched my face with his little hands and held strands of my hair in his fist. How you would have rocked him to sleep in your arms and laid him down. How we would have sang to him and blessed him with our love. Estel, Ilúvatar knows I was not ready for him to leave us." She swallowed hard. "I do not know if I will ever heal."

"It is all right," he whispered. "I was not ready. I wanted to hold him, and love him, and rejoice over him. He was our son, Arwen." He slipped his hand over her womb. "And he was alive, and he was loved, and he grew inside you." She choked back a sob at his words, covering her hand with his and gripping it tightly. "But someday, there will be another," he said firmly, pressing his lips to her forehead. "There will, beloved, because Ilúvatar is good and gracious, and he will remember us. And we will not forget our little one, but we will be able to love another."

"Estel," she whispered, and she waited until he responded.

"Yes, love?"

"If…if we…if I…"

"Stop," he warned, knowing what she was about to say, "do not ask it."

"If I cannot ever bear you a child," she whispered quickly, but there was fear in her voice as she continued, "will you… _can_ you still love me? Can you still look at me the way you do, knowing that I…I can never…we can never…?"

After everything that had happened, still she feared the future. He sat up straight and slid her away from his chest so she could not hide in his neck. He reached down, took Annî from her arms and laid her down on the pillows she had been playing with from the room nearby. Arwen reached for her, but he caught her hands and turned her into him to face him, and with one hand he held hers to his chest and with the other he cupped her face.

"Look at me, Arwen…right now," he said, his voice firm and she opened her eyes, her lips trembling. " _Nothing_ , not height, nor depth, nor death, nor anything on heaven or earth can separate me from my love for you. I will love you forever, no matter what." The words made her flinch, but he continued. "If we are never able to have a child, if you were scarred beyond recognition, if you were sickly and ill for the rest of your days, if you went mad and lost your mind and I had to care for you forever and you did not even remember my _name_ —"

"Please…enough…" she said, shaking her head, clasping her hands around his wrists.

"Not enough; it will _never_ be enough. Arwen, you are my _life_ ," he said, "and I will love you beyond the end of it. Please," he continued, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers, "do not ask me that again."

"I…forgive me," she whispered. "You are the one constancy in my life. I should never question you. Never. My fear overpowers the truth that you are. Ilúvatar, forgive me."

"Do I not…do I not tell you enough? Show you enough?" he asked. "Please, what can I do to make you believe that I will never leave you? Not _ever_."

She tried to smile. "I will try to be better; I will try to be—"

"Do not make promises like this," he said gently. "You _are_ better, and I will ever be here to help you, to hold you…but do not hide from me." He kissed her softly and then met her eyes again. "Let me be your shelter; hide _in_ me instead. And…believe my words. They are true."

She nodded, and then they both turned when they heard Annî making noise in her sleep. She smiled. "Let us take her to bed." She looked back at him and rested her hand on his arm. "And then you can hold me all night?"

It was his turn to nod as he began scooping the little one up into his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

It began with sudden screaming so loud it echoed from the walls of the cavern and reverberated along the corridors. Every Ithilien Ranger heard it, and it caused their hair to stand up on the back of their necks; guttural screams that were made of pure terror. Everyone in the cavern sat upright, and Gimli threw his hands up over his ears.

"By _heaven_ what _is_ that?" cried Éowyn as Faramir leapt to his feet. None of them even knew what was happening, but when they saw who was screaming their hearts stopped.

Legolas had never heard her like this; he had never heard her screaming in the night, and his heart was torn open and something like ice went straight through his chest to his spine. He was already at her side, trying to wake her, grasping at her hands as she thrashed about on the stone, wrestling with an invisible adversary. She tore open her left arm with her own nails and scratched his face and his neck before he caught her left wrist. Her right hand was tangled in her own hair, blonde strands tearing out as she yanked and yanked.

"Eru in Heaven!" he cried. "Enguina _stop! Stop!_ "

" _NOOOOOO!_ " She wailed into the night, and that was when Faramir realized that the scream had been a word, not just a sound. He ran to Legolas's side, reaching for her, to help hold her down; as he got closer he could see her face, sweat and tears pouring down it. Just as his fingers brushed her leg, her foot lashed out and caught him in the knee, twisting it. Crying out, he dropped back, wrapping his hands around it.

"Faramir!" yelled Gimli, who was closest to him, and he reached down and grabbed the man. "Are you all right, laddy?" His voice could hardly be heard above Enguina's screaming.

Éowyn moved forward towards Legolas and Enguina but he held up a hand to her. " _Stay back_!" he snapped. The last thing Enguina needed to do was injure Éowyn when she was pregnant; she would never forgive herself. He grabbed her arms and dragged her away from Faramir; Enguina was still screaming and violently thrashing to escape him.

This dream did not want to end; it was fierce, and it had such a hold over her mind that even wrestling with her was not going to work. His hands and arms and _hers_ were covered with scratches, and her left wrist was bruised from how tight he had held it. He _had_ to wake her; he had to try anything that might work, no matter how awful.

Reaching out and grabbing the nearest flagon full of water, he pulled her hand away and splashed it down onto her face. She woke, screaming as he grasped at her hands when she tried to yank away from him. Pain speared through her arms and shoulders and then that familiar place across her abdomen, and she writhed away from him, her eyes full of terror, her head spinning.

" _Nonono, please, NO!_ " she wept, trying to pull away, desperate to be free. She was going to be sick; she tried to force it away, but her breath just kept coming out in gasps, tears pouring down her face.

"It is all right!" Legolas cried, tears on his own face as he looked on her. "You are all right!" Everyone else did not matter; only her…only her! "You are safe! There is no one here to harm you! No one will touch you, I swear it!"

"Uh…" the sound as her breath caught in her throat caught between a plea and a sob made him realize that she was going to retch, and he lowered her hands, released her wrists, and reached out to grasp her shoulder. She tried to wrench away, to bat him off, but she was so clumsy and disoriented from the dream that she missed and he rolled her onto her side, her face brushing the stone. She tried to roll back, to drag herself away from him, _anything_ …but instead she felt him grasp her hair and sweep it back from her face.

The action was so familiar that for a moment, she came back to herself; the feel of his fingers on her face shifting her hair behind her ears made her realize that this was not _him_ …it was _Legolas_. But the dream was too potent in her mind, too _real_ …and that _pain…_ oh, that awful pain…

"Uh…" her throat caught again, and this time she did heave on the stone, coughing and choking as he scooped her halfway into his arms. He held her for a sum total of three seconds before her nails dug into his arm, but there was little she could do to him when she was as sick as she was with her head spinning.

"Dear Ilúvatar," he heard Éowyn whisper from close by, just behind his shoulder. She grabbed whatever was nearest, a pan with leftovers from dinner in it, and pushed it beneath Enguina's face. Taking the water left in the flagon, she soaked a towel in it and slipped it around the back of the elf's neck.

There was a pause in her vomiting. Legolas never even looked up from what he was doing; between holding her against him and feeling her begin to quiver, he had enough to worry about. Her left fingers were digging even deeper into his arm, but the right was on the stone holding her, her whole body beginning to lose itself to fear.

"Is she ill?" cried Gimli. "What can I do, lass?" he begged Éowyn. "Tell me! Anything!"

"Is Faramir all right?" asked Éowyn worriedly as she prepared another towel for Enguina's face.

"I will be all right," the man replied, his eyes fixed on Legolas holding Enguina. "Give us a duty, Éowyn."

"Go and reassure your men no one is dying!" she cried, wringing her hands, her eyes tearing up. "And Gimli, make some tea!" She turned away as both of them went to do exactly as she said, and she reached out to touch Enguina's forehead with the cloth, her eyes catching on her torn shoulder, her hair, her face, and then Legolas's face as well.

"Shh…shh…" he whispered, his voice breaking. He could hear her breathing coming out in gasps. "Everything is all right. You are safe."

" _Let…let…_ " she was gasping, and Legolas knew what she was trying to say.

"Not this time, _moina_ _quén_ …not this time." He felt her body tense even in its shaking, and saw Éowyn pull back with the cloth as Enguina vomited again, unable to control herself. This was _his_ fault; _his fault_ for pushing her, _his fault_ for making her think about the dream; _his fault_ for his impatience…and he cursed and cursed himself over and over as he held her. He was to blame.

When she had stopped for the second time, Legolas rolled her back against him. He was serious about not letting her go this time. As he moved her, he saw her forehead, scratched and bleeding, tears pouring down her face, sweat dripping down her neck.

"Nnno…no," she whispered, but she did not open her eyes. Éowyn put the towel on her forehead, but Legolas shook his head.

"She is freezing," he said. "She needs a blanket, some water." He slipped his arm underneath her head, the other still wrapped around her upper body. He took his left hand, her hand coming with his arm, and took control of the towel from her face, wiping it gently and then her mouth. Her teeth were chattering and her body was shaking so hard she was making noises as she lay in his arms, head still spinning.

"S…ssss…ssorry," she whispered, and he choked on his own words.

" _I am the one who should be sorry_ ," he told her, and leaving the cloth back on her forehead, he gently laid his hand on her face. She flinched, as he knew she would, but she did not beg him to stop touching her.

Éowyn opened up the blanket and laid it over her and half over Legolas. His mind was beginning to function again as it should, and he needed to forget his guilt in this and focus on helping her…immediately. The elf raised his head and caught Éowyn's eye. "She is pale…are there any mint leaves? Anywhere?"

"There are some in my saddle bag," said Éowyn and Gimli brought them to her at once, where Legolas slipped one into Enguina's mouth.

"Chew on this," he said softly, "it will help settle your stomach." He lowered his hand and rested it over her stomach and she suddenly jolted.

" _No_ ," she said, her eyes snapping open, and he raised his hand from her. "Do not touch me, Legolas," she whimpered. _Especially not there…not there…_ The phantom pain took her again and she paled, her head spinning as she tried desperately to chew the leaf and settle her stomach, her thoughts. His hand returned to her face and he wiped it gently with the cloth. She tried hard not to heave again.

"What else can I do?" asked Éowyn, brushing her fingers against Enguina's arm.

"Give…give her a few moments to calm down," he said softly, "and then she has wounds we need to look at."

"So do you," Éowyn said, reaching up to touch the scratches on his cheek and neck.

"Forget them. Hers are more serious," he said, thinking of her shoulder. "Just…let her breathe for a few minutes." Holding her was the only service he could do her, and he kept his hands to her face. Whatever had happened to her, whatever this was, this was the worst it had been so far. This was the worst he had ever seen, and he thought of Aragorn's words: that he did not know what suffering was.

 _If it is much worse than this, Aragorn…I do not think I wish to know; I do not wish to see_.

* * *

"This was the longest night of my life," Legolas said softly as he tightened the cinch on the grey's saddle, and Glosbrethil snorted. He was absolutely exhausted mentally, and physically he was not much better.

First, it took nearly three hours for everyone to settle back down from the chaos of Enguina's nightmare. She barely spoke to anyone but Legolas, explained nothing, and was asleep first being as exhausted as she was. He comforted her, soothed her, even sang to her while she was sleeping; he knew this worked, staying up to watch her the rest of the evening, because each time she would give a soft moan in her sleep, he would chase the dreams back by stroking her face or combing his fingers through her hair.

Éowyn had spent a great deal of time placing ointment on Enguina and Legolas's wounds. Gimli had spent the majority of the night sitting and staring at them, worried and yet so confused. Faramir, unable to simply sit by, spent the night discussing the Ranger who had been killed out in the wilderness with several of his other men. There was not much information to be discovered, but at least he found that another Ranger had been killed around the same time, also by something human. The men had been working on tracking whoever it was though without much success, and then the travelers had found the body of the second man they had lost.

"You are _not_ going _anywhere_ without us!"

Legolas lifted his head at the sound of raised voices coming from the next stall, knowing full well it was Éowyn and she was _angry_. There was nothing that Faramir could do about that; there was no way after last evening and the fact that Éowyn had a contraction this morning that he was going to allow her to come with them. Not today. As Legolas, Faramir, and Gimli were in the middle of preparing their mounts, she had come into the stable as angry as bear that had been poked with a stick. In all fairness, they also were going out to see if they could search out a killer, and they did not want to take the ladies on either errand.

"I _knew_ I should never have mentioned—" Éowyn began again hotly and Faramir glared at her.

"Now, see here, woman," he said. "You are _lucky_ you told me, because if you had not and I had found out…well, the situation would _not_ be pretty."

" _That,_ coming from the mouth of a man who—"

"Éowyn, please," Faramir began, trying a new tact— _begging_ , "trust me. You can come tomorrow, _please_! Just one day; one day of sitting here and taking it easy. You will not miss a thing!"

"I _want_ to come!" she said, her voice showing her irritation. "You _know_ that we wished to come! Why would we be here with you if we did not desire to go?" Faramir reached out and settled his hands on her shoulders.

"Éowyn—"

"Do not 'Éowyn' me, Faramir!"

" _Please_ …be reasonable—"

Their conversation grew intensely more heated, and Legolas had to cover his ears just to drown out the noise, while Gimli simply stood by, sighing and pulling the cinch on Firgenwine. The elf looked up and watched as his bride-to-be leaned against Glosbrethil, laying an arm over his rump as she rested her head on it. She watched him silently, and he felt guilt spear him in the gut simply by looking at her scratched face. Her hair was in place even though she had torn a chunk of it out last night, you could not tell; but it was her eyes that looked so _tired_ , and she was favoring her left shoulder that she had torn with her own hands. They were haunting him; he knew the part he had played in last night's debacle, and he hated himself for it.

Unlike Éowyn, Enguina was not angry; she was simply unhappy. If Legolas did not already know how set Faramir was in his decision to leave Éowyn behind today, there was no way he would have left her. But Éowyn needed someone to keep her company, and Enguina needed more rest; it was a logical choice. He looked at her with compassion, laying a hand on her cheek and stroking his thumb across a fading scratch beneath her eye.

"Can you forgive me, _moina quén_?" he whispered, his eyes sad, but she shook her head.

"What is there to forgive, Legolas?" she asked in reply. "If I…had explained months ago, nothing like this would have happened."

"The fault here is mine," he stated, looking into her face seriously. "I will have it no other way. I am sorry that you hurt yourself; I am sorry I could not wake you. How do you feel this morning?"

"A little better," she said. "Not as ill…but _tired_."

He winced as Éowyn shouted something rather harsh at Faramir, and he looked at her guiltily. "Can you please be more understanding than that?" he asked softly.

She gave him a little smile. "Only slightly. I know why you are doing it, but I cannot say I condone it or like it. Not at all," she admitted. "You seek to protect us, and give us some peace, yet you are leaving us here alone when all day we shall only be thinking of you and if you are safe. _And_ in a fight we are very useful." Legolas looked at her doubtfully and her eyes narrowed at him, though she did not lift her head. "Do not look at me like that; Éowyn is very skilled with a blade, and there are few who could match my skill with a bow except perhaps _you_."

"I cannot deny any of that," he replied, stroking her face again. "But…"

"You would still rather me here."

He nodded slowly. "You are tired, Guin, and a long day of riding is not what you need right now." She raised her eyebrows at him and sighed.

"Actually, I think turning my mind to something such as 'hunting for a murderer' might be the perfect thing to distract me."

"But not Éowyn," he said softly, and Enguina glanced over at the woman who was still stubbornly arguing with her husband, though softer now and there were tears in her eyes. "She is _exhausted_ , and she will not rest if you do not. You _know_ it; your staying here would make Faramir very grateful and would prolong his life and their marriage for many more years."

"Ugh," she replied, rolling her eyes, "that was the worst guilt maneuver you have used on me in some time."

He smiled at her. "But it worked."

"Of _course_ it did," she said a bit grumpily, narrowing her eyes at him. "And believe me, I am only doing this for Éowyn, _not_ for either of you. She needs her sanity…which the male counterpart of _any_ species has a habit of ruining for females."

He chuckled at her words and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You are so amusing."

"If I did not know better," she continued, "I would say that this is some sort of strange attempt at spending time with your _pals_ before the wedding."

"It is nothing of the kind, and I spend plenty of time with them." He laid his forehead against hers. "I love you, Guin. Just…stay here, please?"

She sighed, and nodded, slipping her arms up around his neck as she stood upright. He moved in slowly for a long kiss, laying his hands on either side of her waist and simply holding her. After a few uncountable moments of bliss, she released him, and he watched her reach up and wipe her eyes. He realized that this was the first time they would be apart since he had rescued her four months ago.

"Are you all right?"

"It is nothing," she said, swallowing hard, and he nodded. As he started to release her, she held onto his tunic and continued to look into his eyes. "Legolas, I…I realize that I have not been very honest with you and I…I…can I make you a promise?"

"A promise?" he said gently with a smile, tilting his head. "You have promised yourself to me," he told her, "and that is better than all the promises in the world. What is it that you want to promise?"

"When you come home after noon," she said softly, and he heard the tightness in her throat, the way her hands gripped his shoulders, "we will go for a walk, you and I…and…and I will tell you the truth about my dreams. I will tell you everything," she stuttered out. "Whatever you want to know…even if it takes me hours…I will tell you." She dragged her shaking fingers along the scratch her nails had made in his face last night. "You deserve to know the truth," she whispered. _Even if it tears my heart out._ "And I am sorry…sorry that it has taken me this long to tell you."

He knew what it cost her to speak those words to him, and he gently bent his head to kiss her again. "I accept your pledge," he said, his eyes full of mercy, "and let me pledge to you that I will be understanding, and that I will comfort you, and that I will love you, no matter your fears or your words."

"I…I love you," she whispered, and he said the same as he kissed her again. "Hurry home… _please_."

"We will not be gone nearly as long as you think," he told her, and she nodded as she patted Glosbrethil.

"Let me retrieve Éowyn," she said with some exasperation. She released Legolas and he followed her as she reached out to catch Éowyn's arm. "Come, Éowyn, leave the men to this day."

"I am not going to give up that easily," she said firmly, her arms crossed. Enguina turned her towards her and laid her hands on her arms.

"Arguing with Faramir for nearly half-an-hour is _not_ what I would call easily, Éowyn," she said with a wry smile, and Éowyn blushed.

"I…we should be going," she insisted.

"Yes," she agreed, "we should…but we are not, at least not today." Éowyn turned piercing eagle eyes on Legolas.

"What did he say to you?"

"He did not have to say much," she admitted to her. "Besides, I was thinking that perhaps it _might_ be of use after all to stay here without the two of them. We can plan a bit more of my _wedding_ ; if you understand what I mean." It was the raising of her eyebrows that suddenly made Éowyn grin.

"You know what, Enguina? Perhaps staying here _could_ be fun." Faramir looked so relieved Enguina thought he might faint, but it was Legolas's immediately paling face that she could not help but smile at.

"Perhaps we _should_ take them with us," Legolas interjected with abrupt urgency. Faramir turned to look at him then, wondering what in the world was going on with all of them.

"What fun we shall have," Enguina added with glee. "However, we do want one small concession…barely anything if you ask me."

"What?" said Faramir almost immediately and as flatly as he possibly could. If he knew _anything_ about women, and he knew quite a lot, it was that when they put their heads together they could become crafty.

"We want the dwarf," said Éowyn just as flatly, as though they were doing an exchange.

"What?" asked Gimli and Firgenwine's ears pricked forward.

"No," denied Legolas, "absolutely not. Gimli comes with us."

"What?" said Gimli again.

"Why? We have more use for him than you." stated Enguina, crossing her arms.

"What am I doing?" asked Gimli for the third time.

"What do _you_ want him for?" asked Faramir, crossing his arms.

"We want him for company!" insisted Éowyn, and Gimli was now looking back and forth between those who were speaking, totally confused.

"Right," said Legolas sarcastically.

"We want him for…protection," admitted Enguina, and all four of her friends including Éowyn stared at her as though she had fourteen heads. " _Really_ , we have no strong men to take care of us while you are both gone, and he would be the perfect one to do so. While you are both so busy, you could at _least_ spare us some company in a strong dwarf—"

Legolas looked at Faramir, whose brow had furrowed and when their eyes met, they both shared a look. "Obvious flattery," stated Faramir, and Legolas nodded.

"Far too much flattery and far too much soft tone of voice to be truth."

"They are trying for some mad reason to allow the dwarf to stay. I wonder what their motive could possibly be."

Legolas shook his head. "Unsure. But—"

"Because we love him," said Éowyn, putting her arms around Gimli and resting her chin on his head. "Please let him stay?"

"What in the devil is going on here?!" yelled Gimli; he was thoroughly confused. Firgenwine snorted and tossed her head.

"Éowyn and Enguina want you to stay with _them_ ," said Faramir, crossing his arms. "I think there is something strange at work here."

"Why?" the dwarf asked, but he knew they must have their reasons. _They must._ "Well, I suppose if the ladies do wish me to stay," said Gimli rather suspiciously, "I have to abide by their wishes. I mean, they _are_ staying behind after all. I suppose I could make them happy and remain here." He looked at the two men. "Besides, this rock is much more to my liking than those strange woods that you all seem to like too much. Yes," he said, nodding, "I will be much happier here. I will stay."

" _And_ ," added Éowyn, "if you do _not_ let Gimli stay, we will simply follow you on horseback as you leave."

"Oh no, no, no…" said Faramir shaking his head. "Fine, the dwarf will stay."

The ladies' smiles were far too large for Legolas and Faramir, who by that time knew there was most definitely a conspiracy going on. It was completely foreign to them, since it had been their plan to leave both women home to begin with; but naturally, as women can do so easily, it was turned about on them.

"It is time to go," said Faramir, shaking his head. "I do not think I understand what happened here at all." He turned to Éowyn and wrapped his arms around her to give her a hug. "Have a good day, my love."

"Faramir, in truth…you will be returning before this evening?"

He looked into her eyes. "We shall be gone no more than a few hours; absolutely before sundown, but perhaps even as early as late afternoon." She touched his face.

"Will you promise me that?"

He looked seriously at her, leaning his forehead against hers. "Éowyn," he said softly, taking her face into his hands. "I can promise you that we will come back. I promise that I will not leave you. I promise you that my love remains with you. I promise that I will think of you constantly. I promise—"

"Don't you think you've made enough promises, lad?" Gimli chuckled, giving Faramir a shove. "Get on the horse before it takes off without you, since _he_ made no promise to wait!" Faramir chuckled and leaned forward to give Éowyn a kiss.

"I promise I will return to you…you have my word." She kissed him again, and he mounted Dwimorisen. He and Legolas were headed out the stable entrance in another moment, but behind them they could hear the voice of Gimli, laughing:

"Let's get Firgenwine out of all this gear and then we'll begin to plan this massive _wedding_ of yours!"

It left both Legolas and Faramir a bit worried about why they kept emphasizing the word 'wedding.'

* * *

Arwen sat in the grass with her back against the stone circle of the Fountain, her legs curled beneath her, and a good book in her hand. She and Annî had been playing in the garden this morning and the little girl was lying in the grass beside her on her stomach, a piece of charcoal and parchment in her hands and beneath her. Sketching, or scribbling, was one of Annî's favorite pastimes, and every once in a while Arwen would look up from her book and spy over her shoulder, in which case Annî would scold her and tell her the picture was not ready yet. Arwen would smile and return to her book.

She reached forward now and gently ran her fingers through Annî's hair, leaning her head back against the stone and looking up into the sun-filled sky. It was a _beautiful_ spring day, and she was more than happy to be out and enjoying it.

"Annî," she asked, "are you hungry?"

"No," she said, making more lines on her paper. Arwen smiled and looked down at her.

"What are you drawing, love?"

"It's done!" she cried, climbing to her feet and holding it out for Arwen to see. The elf's only thought before she looked at it was that she hoped this time she could figure out what it was without having to ask her.

"Oh…Annî, this is _lovely_." _No…no idea what this is, darling._ _Ilúvatar, forgive me for not being able to see through the eyes of this child._ "Now, tell me all about what you were drawing."

Annî beamed with delight and began describing each flower and butterfly and lamb that she had been drawing that looked so much more like trees, slabs of meat, and cows…but Arwen smiled and exclaimed at each one.

"Can I draw a piture for Tirion?" she asked.

"Of course you can, chên nîn," she laughed. "And what are you going to draw him?"

"Yes, what _are_ you going to draw me?" laughed Aragorn as he came out between the rows of blooming flowers.

" _Tirion!_ " Annî screamed at the top of her lungs, and she dropped the paper and ran barefoot through the grass to run into his arms as he lifted her high and spun her around. When she had been sufficiently spun, Annî grasped his hand and dragged him nearer to where Arwen was seated in the grass, wishing that she had lacked the self-control to have done the same.

"I do not think I have ever seen anyone so delighted to see me," he teased, as he lowered himself into the grass beside his wife.

She smiled at him. "I would have given you a better reception," she said, tilting her head to kiss him softly in greeting, "but I was far too comfortable here."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he laughed, and Annî grabbed her parchment.

"Tirion, I was drawing you a piture!"

"A picture?" he said with a smile as he touched her hair. "What is it of?"

She held it up and pointed the imaginary objects out to him. "There is a horze and then me riding! And then there is you, and Tiriel, and then a big tree! And the river and the sun and then couds!"

He gasped. "It is beautiful." Arwen could not help but be enchanted by their exchange.

She giggled, stomping her feet in place for a moment as she laughed at him. "But Tirion!"

"What?" he asked, grinning at her as he laid his arm over Arwen's shoulders and she leaned into him, setting her book on the ground. She was transfixed by Annî's delight.

"I didn't draw it yet!" she exclaimed, and she tossed herself into the grass at his feet and begin scribbling on the parchment. Aragorn could not help but keep the smile on his face, but he felt Arwen's eyes on him after a few moments.

"What?" he asked her, looking down into her eyes.

"What are you _doing_ here?" asked Arwen softly, and he laughed at the surprise in her voice.

"Do you want me to go away?" he teased.

"By no means," she said, her fingers interlacing with his. "I simply cannot believe that you are out here with us. Must you go back?"

"As a matter of fact… _no_ ," he said with a smile. "We are finished with our meetings, and I knew you were both out here from one of the guardsmen—"

"Mennev or Hildanir?" she asked, thinking fondly of them.

"Mennev, this time," he replied, "and I came right here. I was thinking, as I often do in Council meetings—they are very dull usually," she laughed softly at his words, "that if Annî was interested, we could have a picnic lunch…and possibly go swimming on this lovely day…and ride down near the Anduin."

" _Riding?_ " squealed Annî, leaping to her feet in delight.

"I think someone is interested in your idea," Arwen said as Annî threw herself into her arms.

"Tirion! _Tirion_!"

" _Yes,_ little one?"

"And _swimming?_ "

"Why not?"

"Let's go! Let's go!" she shouted with joy, and she jumped from Arwen's lap and yanked both of their arms until they got to their feet to take her.

* * *

Éowyn fell over, laughing and clapping her hands. She lay on her back on the stone, her body shaking with the effort she put out to control herself, except all of her friends were having the same issue. "By Ilúvatar," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "you two are by far the worst conspirators in Middle-Earth! If Legolas knew what you two are planning, he would kill all of us!"

"Kill is such a _strong_ word, Éowyn," giggled Enguina, and then she smirked when Éowyn made no attempt to sit back up. "Are you coming back up to join us, dear?

"I would if I could," she began, still laughing, "but it seems that my _belly_ will not let me!" There was another round of laughter, but Gimli leaned forward and helped to carefully pull her up into a sitting position so that she was facing them once again. She was shaking her head. "Oh…that was _so_ funny!"

"It _is_ a very good plan, yes?" asked Enguina, a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yes, Legolas will simply die." Éowyn smiled hugely. "What else do you have planned?"

"You never know what I will come up with by the eve of the wedding."

"We've also been planning to 'lose' Legolas' clothes for the wedding," Gimli laughed. "That'll petrify him, since I've told him a few times that he's really going to wear his traveling clothes to the altar!"

"Yes!" laughed Enguina. "These tricks will add just enough silliness to our affair to make him laugh. Nothing too sinister; I still want him to wed me, but enough to ease the tension."

" _And_ of course I've a speech planned that's sure to embarrass him!" exclaimed Gimli. "It will be so special I might even _sing_ some of it!

"You really _do_ have it all planned out, do you not?"

Enguina shrugged. "I have been working on it," she admitted. "I know he is plotting against me; he is always teasing me, so this is my opportunity to even things up a bit."

"You know, I'm getting a bit hungry," stated Gimli. "How'd you ladies like me to find some food?" Éowyn touched her stomach.

"Gimli, I did not realize how hungry I was until you asked!" she laughed.

Gimli laughed and rose, bowing. "Then let me serve you!" He moved away to gather some food for lunch and Éowyn watched him depart.

"He is so sweet."

"Shh!" laughed Enguina. "Do not let _him_ hear you say that!"

Éowyn looked back at her, giving her a mischievous little grin. "Now, back to business: have you planned your wedding night yet?"

Enguina blushed immediately and looked surprised at her question. "P-p-plan?" she stuttered, unsure how to respond. "Éowyn, are you teasing me?"

"Not at all!"

"I…how do you…how can I even…?" She stared at the woman, and Éowyn smiled at her.

"Oh, stop looking so worried! You desire to be with Legolas, do you not?"

Enguina's face turned even redder. " _Éowyn_ —"

"Enguina, it is not every day of your life that you get married! Legolas is the one man in the world that you are going to spend the rest of your life with; that first night is...well, special. It is the coming together of two people with so many differences, like joining opposites in a very sacred way. Marriage is so… _wonderful_."

"Well, one can see that you are happily married, Éowyn," Enguina said, glancing away, her face still quite a bit redder than she would like.

"Let us stay focused on you, hmm?" she said, a twinkle in her eyes. "So your wedding night is the most special and sacred moment of your life. It is the first time in all the years you have been alive that you are choosing to give away something that you have never given to anyone else." She smiled at Enguina, though the elf's nails digging into her palms went unnoticed.

"And what is that?" she asked softly.

Éowyn laid her hand on her arm. " _Yourself_. And it is terrifying and wonderful, all at the same time! And nothing else matters but the two of you; the night is a celebration of your love, yours and Legolas's…" She smiled at her. "You will make such a beautiful bride, and Legolas will be completely captivated by you…especially if you continue to blush like that the whole night!"

"Stop teasing me," Enguina groaned, trying to cover her anxiety. " _You_ must have made a beautiful bride yourself, Éowyn."

"Well, Faramir thought so," she giggled, "and he was the only one I cared to impress."

"I am certain he would have more to say than _that_ ," Enguina pointed out.

"He would, knowing him so well, but he is not here to tell of it. Thank Eru!" Éowyn praised. "Sometimes Faramir does not realize that some of the things he does or says are too intimate for public conversation or displays. He is usually so proper and then sometimes…he forgets where we are."

"He forgets where he is and what he is doing because he is so in love with you," Enguina joked, happy to have the pressure off herself for a moment. "And sometimes, I am willing to bet he does it on purpose."

"Enguina, when you spend that first night with Legolas," she said suddenly, "you will be unable to imagine why you waited so long to marry, yet you will ask the question. You will ask: why has Ilúvatar waited until this moment to bind me to this man? Take my words; you will be amazed at everything you will learn from each other." Éowyn laid her hands on her belly suddenly and breathed out.

"Éowyn?"

"I am fine," she said, brushing her off. "Honestly, this is very common in the last few weeks. The body must prepare itself, you know."

Enguina swallowed hard and sighed. "I do not know if I could ever be ready to have children."

Éowyn laughed. "I felt that way, too! I was absolutely terrified…and then I held Annî in my arms. There is nothing in the world that means more to me than her and my love for Faramir, of course."

"And this _new_ little one," Enguina said with a grin.

Éowyn laughed again. "Well, of course!" she replied, rubbing her belly gently. Then she looked at Enguina more seriously. "Speaking of being all right…are _you_ all right?"

"Me? Fine, Éowyn," she said with a shrug. "Why not?"

Éowyn tilted her head, wondering if Enguina was purposely misunderstanding her. "Your shoulder, that nightmare you had last night—"

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "Yes, I am fine. Thank you, though. I…I know you were worried; thank you for asking about me."

"Terribly worried," she said softly. "We all were. When Legolas began shaking you, I was not sure he was going to be able to wake you. And then you were hurt and—"

"Éowyn, please," Enguina whispered as she crossed her arms in a struggle to keep the warmth inside herself, "I…cannot talk about it. Forgive me."

The Rohirric woman squeezed her arm gently. "Is there nothing that I can do for you?"

"Not with this, Éowyn, but…thank you, for trying to help."

The woman watched her for a moment, judging whether she should push and pry or not; Enguina could tell. But Éowyn seemed to think that it might be best to let her tell her own story, so she let it go. "Legolas was frantic over you last night," she said softly.

"I…I know," she replied, sighing softly. "I promised to talk with him tonight." She lifted her tired eyes to Éowyn. "Some secrets are too hard to keep…and this is the last one between Legolas and me."

"Faramir and I do not have any secrets," Éowyn said thoughtfully, "but, then again, there has never been anything to have a secret about. If you tell him, Legolas will understand. He is a very good man."

Enguina smiled wryly. "That is what I keep hearing."

Éowyn laughed. "Well, he is! And I am very sure you already know that or you would not be marrying him." She grinned at her, and then sighed. "Where in the _world_ is Gimli with all that food he said he was going to bring?"

Enguina laughed. "He did say he would serve you, but he did not say he would be _timely_ about it! If you like, I offer to go and fetch him."

"No, no," she replied. "I am sure he will be right back. You know, I do have plans for the rest of the afternoon. Would you like to hear my thoughts?"

"Please share."

"Food, that Gimli is bringing…nap…and then a snack before we begin finding dinner," she said ticking them off on her fingers as Enguina laughed.

"Honestly, Éowyn? You would think your entire day revolves around food!"

"Oh no," she denied as seriously as possible, "most of the emphasis of my day was going to be on the _nap_! I think we both could use one of those, yes?"

"Now _that_ sounds like a great idea," Enguina admitted.


	11. Chapter 11

Faramir sighed for the seventh time since they had set out that morning, and Legolas gave a secret smile. He knew _exactly_ what his friend was thinking as they rode along, but he waited for him to express himself. It was nearly noon, and Legolas knew that Faramir had been itching to turn about for several hours. In a way, the man was thrilled to be searching for a place for their home, but without Éowyn it seemed a bit pointless. How could he make such a decision on his own? Legolas was feeling much the same.

"You know, these birches are quite lovely," the man said softly, and Dwimor halted as he tugged the reins. He reached out and laid a hand on its soft, gray bark. "These were some of my favorite trees when I was a child," he added thoughtfully. "Perhaps my family should like to live near them as well."

"It would be a fine place for a home," Legolas agreed. "Do you think that you would be comfortable so far from Minas Tirith?"

Faramir grimaced. "I would regret it were something to happen. Henneth Annûn is quite beautiful but it is also far. It is two or three days ride, depending on the swiftness of one's horse; I suppose that does seem far." He sighed. "It would be better for me to be nearer to the City if necessary. Perhaps Éowyn and I should look closer to Osgiliath."

"I do not think you need to be too close, Faramir," Legolas admitted. "But perhaps a bit closer would be wiser."

"And what of you, friend? Has this venture been fruitful for you?" He grinned at the elf. "I know that glade you found was quite lovely, and as long as there are no more poor souls to be found on that land, I am sure it would be more than suitable."

"Enguina did seem to like it," Legolas agreed with a smile. "I keep thinking about what you said, about wanting to be alone, and I think that is true. I think I would enjoy my life being quiet and simple with only Enguina and a small horde of children running about the place…and no other worries."

Faramir laughed. "And what of your kin?"

"They would come," he replied. "Ithilien is far too beautiful to pass by; I think my kin would be very happy here."

"And they would look to you as their leader, Legolas. Come now, you would have more responsibilities than simply your family," Faramir reminded him. "You would be seen as a King to them, just as your Father is to his people."

Legolas sighed. "I always assumed that my Father would live forever, and that I would never have to take his kingship. I do believe that this is a little bit different, but…I think you are right, that the other elves would look to me." He gave Faramir a little smirk. "Guin would make a very good Queen."

The man looked back at him. "Was she all right this morning?"

Legolas winced. "How is your leg?"

"Bruised, but completely fine, as you well know," he replied. "So…my impression was that this has happened before. This was not the first time she has experienced such a dream."

"No…" he said softly, and this time he looked away from Faramir. "I am sorry you were injured; she does not know what she is doing."

"I could see that."

"She is struggling with nightmares," he added, trying to defend her, "and I know nothing about them, what causes them…although," he admitted, "last night was my fault. I pushed her to tell me the truth about them and it brought one on."

Faramir frowned. "They seem very serious."

"You have no idea," he whispered, and then sighed. "Enguina promised to talk to me about them before the wedding, so I am hoping we will clear the air of them tonight."

Faramir nodded. "A good idea. Might I be frank with you, Legolas?"

"Is there a time when you are not?" Legolas wryly asked as the man chuckled.

"One of the most exciting things about marriage is learning to share your bed with someone else." Legolas burst out laughing and Faramir reached out and shoved him in the arm. "Oh, laugh if you like! But you wait; it is amusing to figure out which side you will sleep on, and will she sleep in your arms every night or every once in a while? Which side do you sleep on? Which side does _she_ sleep on? Does one of you snore?"

Legolas laughed again. "Elves do not snore, Faramir!"

"All right! But you know what I mean," he said. "It is an exciting adventure, to be married."

"I am going to enjoy every minute of it."

" _Almost_ every minute," Faramir suggested. "You will not like it when you fight."

"No one enjoys a fight."

"Well," he said, holding up his water skin for a toast, "a toast to you and the lovely Enguina, Legolas! May your marriage be full of happiness, and may the squabbles between you both be minor and few!"

"I will toast to that!" Legolas laughed. Just as he reached to lift his own skin from his saddle, his attention was drawn by a flash of movement in the trees. He drew Glosbrethil to a halt, his sharp gaze studying the large deciduous tree before them.

"What is it?" Faramir asked. His eyes were not as sharp as an elf's, but he knew that there was something amiss; the birds had quieted their song.

"Something…something is not quite right…" Legolas said thoughtfully as Faramir looked around at the other trees. Dwimorisen tossed his head, snorting as Faramir tugged him back.

"Easy, Dwimor," Faramir chastised him.

And suddenly, all hell broke loose about them.

A host of arrows was loosed, raining down from the trees both ahead and behind. There was no room to maneuver, and even less time to react. Faramir was struck immediately to his right shoulder blade, and, unable to draw his bow, tried to pull Dwimorisen around to escape the onslaught. The big grey lunged toward the other side of the tree in a panic, pelted with arrows as he presented a much larger target, and bolted as soon as he saw open woods. The man on his back took an arrow to the side and as he reached to pull it out was brushed from the saddle by a low-hanging branch. As his mount fled into the trees to safety, Faramir rolled to his knees, amazed that he had the presence of mind to snatch his bow from the saddle. He knocked an arrow and took aim.

Legolas had fared even worse than Faramir. Glosbrethil, watching Dwimorisen panic, reared up himself, even as Legolas yelled to him. An arrow lodged itself into the stallion's neck and he fell over backwards, knocking the elf from him as he fell to the ground. Thankfully, Legolas rolled to the side just in time to avoid being crushed, but arrow after arrow pelted into the soft ground as he continued to shove himself away from the fallen horse who was struggling to get to his feet. As he shoved his own form behind the nearest tree, he realized he had two arrows jutting from his flesh. He jerked out the one in his left arm and struggled with the one lodged in his right hip for a moment before he could remove it. Arrows rained near his legs, and he heard them snapping into the tree bark just off to his left and right. Grimacing through the pain, he drew his bow and knocked an arrow, firing it into the nearby branches of another tree. Brethil was nowhere to be seen.

There was a cry, and he watched as an elf fell from his obvious perch in the branches. Another fell from another tree, and he was glad that Faramir was well enough to shoot them down as well. But then shock registered, if only briefly, as the elf was in a fight for his life. What in the world were _elves_ doing firing at them? These were his _kin_! And what were they doing trespassing in Ithilien?

"I am kin!" he called out, even as he began knocking another arrow. "We are not your enemies!" There was no response, and the arrows did not stop, so Legolas shot down two more before he reached to fire a third and an arrow pierced the tree inches from his face.

Broken bark battered his skin and he cried out in agony from the splinters that sprayed his eyes. Brushing his eyes and face with his hands, he urgently tried to clear his vision, listening to the numerous cries and shouts of elves and men—yes, there were men, too. And he could hear cracking in the leaves and the pounding of hooves on the ground; more were coming, and these were not reinforcements to help Faramir and himself.

"Legolas!" Faramir cried out, and he heard a few more men drop before he could clear his own vision enough to see what he was doing. When he opened his eyes, there was a man right in front of him, close enough to kill him with a swing of his sword. Dropping the bow and swinging out his white knife, he caught the man across the throat, spraying the tree and himself with blood before he was able to draw the other…and then it was all suddenly hand-to-hand, and he was faced with another elf, an elf of _Mirkwood_.

"Stop this mad—!" he began, but the elf began slashing at him ferociously, and he had no choice but to kill or be killed, pushed out from behind the tree and taking another arrow heavily in the ribs. He stumbled, but held his ground as he watched the elf who had fired the arrow drop from the tree. Legolas battled on, shoving the elf back and trying to return to the protection of the tree, no matter for how brief a time.

* * *

The man was the one Soronar saw first, and he did not recognize him at all. He did not seem as the others they had found harboring Uruks and orcs of Sauron, but there was not much one could tell about a person from such a distance. He fired an arrow into the man's shoulder; a good solid hit. He remembered very well that the goal was to capture, not kill, and even through his anger that was not difficult to follow.

His surprise and immediate shock came when he saw the blonde hair of Elvish kindred hedge out from beneath the tree and heard a shout of stop. Soronar nearly fell from the tree when he saw the face of Legolas, son of Thranduil, and without thinking, fired an arrow up into the branches of a nearby tree, killing the last Elven archer there. Leaping down from his hiding place, he began shouting.

" _Stop! Stop!_ " he yelled, but it was suddenly all too clear to him. There was no threat of Uruks here! This was a traitorous attack on the son of Eryn Lasgalen! The 'why' could not matter just now. Angrily, he turned and took out three more Elves from the trees before he was injured suddenly by the arrow of a 'friend.' He watched as Vilyath dropped to the ground from her horse and approached the wounded man from behind.

"Look out!" he shouted, flailing an arm as he raised his bow, trying to force his arm to work. Faramir caught his eye and spun about, just in time to catch Vilyath's look of death and her blade on his bow. The man rolled to the side and shoved aside the fatal blow, but two more arrows struck him and he dropped over onto his side, his bow falling from his hand.

Soronar would have tried to help the elf, but he had been forced to his knees by an arrow to the ribs and the son of Thranduil had been completely overtaken. He had been struck two more times to his side and shoulder, and he could not withstand the number of assailants. Trying to take out as many of them as he could, he swept his knife about, taking off the leg of the elf on his left and losing that white knife, before he took the legs out from under another on his right. A heavy blow struck him from behind and he dropped to his knees, spinning with the knife while just remaining coherent enough to plunge it into another man's body. The enemy fell, but the edge of another shield struck Legolas in the head again, and this time, he was knocked from his knees, overcome by the darkness.

Vilyath stood looking down over Faramir's partly unconscious form; he had numerous arrow wounds yet he was still alive. She raised her sword and Omarom grabbed her arm. "Leave him, Vilyath," Dragsúl snapped. "Let him suffer for all our men he has killed. Let him suffer for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Leave him to die." She looked down at him, and nudged his body onto his back with her foot. Then, she turned from him as she noticed Soronar propped up against the tree, watching as Omarom began hefting Legolas onto the back of a horse.

Taking a place in front of him, she glared down into his eyes. "You betrayed us," she snapped. "I should kill you right now."

"You _deceived_ me," he stated, his breathing short. "Why? Why have you done this? The son of _Thranduil_ …"

"You are so pathetic!" she laughed. "You think your quest is so _righteous_ , searching for Haldir's killers! Yours is not the only cause that is just."

"Just?" he coughed. "What justice is there…in this?"

"We need a home, Soronar, a home to call our own. Thranduil's kingdom would be a perfect place." She gave him a nasty smile. "The Prince will make _fine_ leverage."

His eyes grew dark with fury, and it was his turn to laugh. "You…you think that the King will give ransom for his son? He will never trade his land, his people. Not for you…not for anything…not even for his own son. He will not negotiate with you."

She snorted. "They _all_ say that, Soronar. All the greats declare they will not treat until they see their whole world come apart around them. Look at the Lord Elrond of Rivendell!" she laughed. "He always said he would not leave his daughter to die and look where she is: on the arm of the King of Gondor; mortal, and dying a little each day! Oh, when Thranduil the _Wise_ sees his son, battered and bruised before him, he will be stumbling over hand and foot to give us his land. Our Lord will see to it."

"Your filthy plan will never work, you who—"

A swift kick in the ribs silenced him as he tried to get his breath back. Instead, he was forced to listen as Dragsúl brought over her mount. "Are you going to kill him?" the man asked, and she scowled, but shook her head.

"No…he has been wishing he was dead for far too long," she sneered, staring down at him. "But that sort of punishment is too quick. No…let him keep company with the dead and continue to wish for it. Then, however long it takes, it will find him. I would keep him alive for eternity and let him suffer, but there is nowhere to keep him now, and we need to travel."

He met her eyes. "Evil things have a way of befalling evil people," he said very seriously. "I wish I had a way of seeing what evil will befall you when you meet your end."

She laughed as she mounted her horse. "Oh Soronar! Always the high and mighty! Well, wish for death; it will find you soon enough I daresay, whether by loss of blood or starvation. Namarië!"

And on her final word, the small group of riders abandoned him, surrounded just as he was by the dead.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set, and it was vibrant and striking that evening by the Anduin where little Annî, Princess of Ithilien was having her last bit of playtime. It was nearly time to head home for dinner, but she had been having such a wonderful time that she had begged her Tirion and Tiriel to stay out for a little while longer, just until the sun had fully set. She lay in the grass at the moment, amazed by a small colony of ants that she was watching carry little pieces of the bread she had offered them deep into their home.

She sighed happily to herself; her afternoon had been perfect. She had been riding with Tiriel on Asfaloth, greeted loads of people in Minas Tirith, swam in the River with her guardians, played hide-and-find behind the great sycamores, ran around, had Tirion read her a story, picked flowers and stones from the riverbank…oh, her day had been _so_ wonderful! And Tirion was going to take her home with him on Brego! The day would not get any better, unless Mommy and Daddy showed up for dinner, yes; then her happiness would be complete.

But she found that even without them at the moment she was happy. She glanced up from her studying of the ants for one moment and found her gaze settling on her guardians, who were several feet away. She watched her Tiriel, her head resting against her Tirion's chest, her eyes closed in a moment of quiet, peace upon her face. She knew the look in her Tirion's eyes as she watched him, too. Yes, Annî knew it well; saw it in her mother's eyes, saw it in her father's too… _love._ She saw it when Tiriel and Tirion looked at her, too, and it made her smile. Grinning, she returned her focus to the ants.

Aragorn was seated on the ground with his back against the nearest sycamore, Arwen's cheek pressed to his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her closely. This moment, this quiet moment while Annî entertained herself in the grass and he held her with the sound of the River rolling through his ears, made him feel that Ilúvatar was very near. He rested his head upon hers and he felt her sigh against him.

"Do we have to give her back?" came her gentle whisper, and he smiled, tightening his arms.

"This is the second time you have asked that question, beloved, in as many days. I am beginning to worry you might be thinking of kidnapping."

He teased her, and that was good. "I have grown so attached," she replied. "It will be difficult when they return; the House will be so quiet." They both watched her in silence for a moment. "She is so innocent, so sweet. Look at her, Aragorn; look at how she inspects her world and discovers it, asking questions, experiencing things, finding things on her own and for herself. She is amazingly young, and yet, so curious!"

"The pairing of Éowyn and Faramir made an inquisitive mind."

"I love them so dearly." She sighed and he looked down into her eyes. "I have been thinking about Enguina all day today," she added softly. "I cannot seem to get her out of my thoughts."

"Worry?" he asked softly, and she lifted her shoulders.

"I do not know. It is strange…I just…I feel an urge to pray for her."

"I should as well, then," he replied, closing his eyes and sending a prayer for her in the quiet of his thoughts. He heard his wife yawn, and he smiled. "Are you tired, love?"

"No…incandescently happy," she whispered as he planted a kiss in her hair, "and content. I should think she is getting a bit hungry though. Perhaps we should be heading back to the City soon." He groaned, and she laughed at him. "Honestly, you sound like a bear."

"I feel like a bear," he suddenly grumbled. "Going back is the last thing I want to do right now." She let it go as she felt his arms tighten around her once again, and she focused her attention back on their charge. Aragorn rested his head on hers once more and she heard him sigh.

"Look at the splendor in the sky tonight," he murmured, and she lifted her eyes to its beauty. He could not be more right; the sky was laid out in a decadent manner, glorifying Ilúvatar with every cloud and reflected ray.

"Annî," Arwen called, "have you looked at the sky lately?"

The little girl, so entranced with the ants, had not; immediately she rolled over onto her back and gasped. Then, she threw herself to her feet and raced towards them, hands in the air, rocks and shells she had collected clinking in her pockets. Launching into Arwen's lap and into Aragorn's arms, she threw her arms around Arwen's neck and kissed her cheek before kissing Aragorn's.

"Tiriel, Tirion! Look at how pretty it is! Look at the _clouds_! They're so fluffy!"

"Indeed they are," agreed Aragorn. "Do you see anything special in them tonight?"

She turned about and, lying against Arwen's chest, stared up at the sky, searching for animals or objects in the clouds. Behind her, Aragorn pressed his lips to Arwen's temple as she smoothed the little girl's hair back.

"Look, birds!" she cried, pointing.

"They are gulls, chên nîn," Arwen said softly.

"I can hear them calling," she added, and then pointed again. "I see a big tree!"

"I see a dragon," Aragorn said seriously.

"A _dragon_?" Annî asked, staring at the clouds. "I've never seen a dragon! Daddy told me a story about a big, mean dragon! I don't want to ever meet a dragon!"

"Not ever?" Aragorn asked.

"Not if he's mean!"

"What if he were a nice dragon?"

"Well…all right."

Aragorn chuckled as Arwen smiled. "What else do you see, Annî?"

"I see…Gimi! Gimi!" she cried, waving her hands at the clouds.

"Where?" laughed Aragorn.

"There's a face!"

"How do you know it is Gimli?" asked Arwen.

"The big nose!" They both laughed aloud then, and Aragorn grinned, ruffling her hair.

"It _does_ look like Gimli. Do you see the horses?"

She looked for a moment, and then she stood up, dancing away from them through the grass and pointing again. "Yes! Yes!" she laughed. "I see them running! Dimmer and Winfola and Afalof! Afalof!" she cried, cupping her hands to her mouth. There was a snort as the big grey trotted into view a few hundred feet away, head and tail high, tossing his head. There came the pounding of hooves through the trees, and Annî laughed, beginning to skip towards the horse. "I haven't left you out, Brego!" There was a loud snort from Asfaloth, and he half-reared as a loud whinny was heard and Brego loped into view from the trees.

Arwen pressed herself up from Aragorn's chest and rose to her knees, hearing something else…something other than hooves. She stood just as Brego let out another whinny, this one a warning, and Aragorn leapt to his feet, reaching around the tree for his bow. Something was coming, Aragorn understood…something vicious.

"Annî!" Arwen called for her, reaching a hand—the girl was without a care, skipping along towards the horses, and for the first time ever did not heed Arwen's call, not recognizing the concern, the caution, in her voice. "Annî, come here to me!"

Arwen heard it before she saw it; Aragorn caught sight of it the moment she did. A tearing _yowl_ was heard and then the sound of grass shredding beneath claws as the big, tawny wildcat rounded the trees where Brego had exited. Stamping and pawing the earth, Brego reared up as the huge cat hissed and snarled. Asfaloth began stamping as well, staying near Brego's side.

" _Andúnêiel_!" snapped Aragorn forcefully, knocking an arrow into his bow; there was no clear shot with the cat half-hidden behind the trees.

The little girl lifted her head at the sound of her name; something was clearly wrong, as she had never heard Tirion's voice sound like that. When she picked up her head, she saw the cat and heard Brego's voice darken with anger, his whinnies forceful and deep. The cat lunged at the bay's flashing hooves as Aragorn barked out Annî's name again, unable to get a clear shot at the beast, afraid he would strike their mounts or the girl.

The little girl, more concerned for the horse than anything else, ignored him completely. " _Brego!_ " she screamed, she bolted towards the horse, crying his name.

" _No, Annî_!" Arwen shrieked, and broke to a run. All sound blocked out, everything became a blur in her ears and eyes, save the little one and the cat, who saw easy prey and left the horses immediately. It leapt towards Annî with bounds of savagery, claws flashing, teeth gnashing, and a snarl like a warg.

The moment was breathless for Aragorn; one target, two figures in the way and two rushing towards the cat from behind. The distance closed between them all as though no time had passed at all, the girl running for Brego, Brego running for the cat, the cat running for Annî, Arwen running for Annî…it was a blur—

And then suddenly Arwen snatched Annî off the ground, and spun about, half-falling, half-sliding in the grass as she turned, holding the girl with one arm and catching herself with her right. But her eyes, even as she turned, met the cat's, locked on its victims; he was hungry, and a small defenseless prey was perfect. Arwen launched herself to her feet, listening to Annî screaming in her arms over the sound of the cat's snarls as the world came back to her and she ran. She ran for safety; she ran to protect the child. Nothing else mattered.

" _Arwen! Drop_!" The order came seemingly out of nowhere, but Arwen obeyed immediately, throwing herself forward and to the ground, curling herself around the child beneath her and tucking every bit of Annî under her own skin. She heard the grass tear beneath the cat's claws, huge chunks of dirt flying out, heard the snarl so loud it made the hair stand up on her neck and arms, felt its hot breath on her skin. But she heard the song of Aragorn's bow, and the thud of a direct hit.

The cat tumbled and then skidded in the dirt, not ten feet from Arwen's foot. It was not dead, and it was angrier than it had been moments before. Hauling itself half onto its side, it dragged its body two feet closer in the second before Aragorn yelled again, firing another arrow and watching as it lodged itself into the cat's skull.

" _Brego!_ "

The horses fell on the cat then, their thrashing hooves kicking and beating and flinging the cat away from where Arwen and Annî lay in a heap where they finished it off quickly with flying fur and death. Arwen remained where she had fallen, shielding Annî's body with her own, the little girl shaking like a leaf beneath her and sobbing. She was crushing the girl now, so she tried to push herself to her elbows and knees, finding that she, too, was shaking so hard that she was unable to get her hands to function. As her weight came off Annî, the little girl held onto her riding clothes, clutching herself to her guardian's breast as Arwen tried to hold her.

"Shh, shh…" she said, pushing herself back onto her heels and knees and holding Annî closer. Her breath seemed frozen in her lungs; terror, fear, adrenaline flowed through her as she listened to the girl cry and mutter Brego's name over and over in her arms. Her long fingers tangled into Annî's hair, and she sat very still, listening to the angry screams of the horses until the pounding of hooves stopped. It seemed like hours; it was only moments. In the seconds of silence and snorting that followed, she heard the thump of Aragorn's boots in the grass.

He knelt beside her and slipped his arms around both of them, hugging them tightly into his embrace. He kissed the back of Arwen's head, let his hand smooth Annî's hair, stroke Arwen's hand. Reaching up, he wiped the tears from Arwen's face with his fingers; she had no idea she had been crying. Annî's fingers grabbed his tunic and pulled herself closer to him, trying to get an arm around his neck while still shoving her face into Arwen's breast.

"Tirion…Tirion…" she sniffed, tears still streaming down her face.

"It is gone, little one," he told her. "You are safe; so is Brego."

"Afalof?"

"He is fine, fine…we are all safe." Arwen tried to get her fingers to release the girl but she could not do it; she could not convince her hands that they needed to let go. Instead, she felt Aragorn sit back a little bit and though he kept a hand around the back of her neck, keeping her close, he needed to see the girl. "Annî…Annî, look at me." She looked up into his face, pulling back just enough to see him as he stroked her cheek. "You are safe now, but this was very dangerous," he said gently, but seriously. "You could have been hurt," he continued, lessening the blow from death though it was clearly in his mind. "Next time, when something is very serious, and you hear me call you, or Tiriel call you, you will listen."

He was not stern; his voice was quiet, but the serious voice of Aragorn was one that Annî had never heard. He was not laughing; he was not smiling; and he reminded her very much of her father in that moment. She untangled herself from Arwen for a moment and threw herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I love you, Tirion!"

"I love you, too, Annî," he said softly, rubbing her back. "That is why this is so important." Arwen laid a hand over her back as well, and Aragorn met his wife's eyes. "Take her," he said gently, "while I finish with the horses." He kissed Annî's head and then broke the hold of her arms around his neck. "Now, please stay with Tiriel, and I will return in a moment."

Andúnêiel returned immediately to Arwen's arms and wrapped herself around her, muttering about how sorry she was and stuffing her thumb into her mouth. Arwen rocked her in her arms and held her close, reassuring and soothing her. Aragorn brushed his hand against the back of Arwen's head and then stood, moving to the horses' side to finish the cat and help rinse them clean in the Anduin.

When all of this was done, the horses themselves followed Aragorn back and came to visit with Annî. Arwen held her, as she would not let the elf go; so with one arm wrapped around Arwen's neck, she stroked the faces of Asfaloth and Brego. After assuring herself that they were all right, she buried her face back in Arwen's neck and her thumb went right back to her mouth. Arwen rested her cheek against her forehead.

"Are you tired, chên nîn?" Annî did not answer, but she closed her eyes and clung tighter to Arwen's neck. It was quite obvious that the day was done, and that she was not letting go for any reason. Arwen kissed her forehead and then whispered, "Who do you want to ride home, Annî? Brego or Asfaloth?"

Aragorn lifted bridles and reattached reins as he listened to her mumbled reply, and watched Arwen smile. "What?" she asked, and Annî mumbled something else as Arwen laughed. "No, I promise he will not be offended." There was another pause. "No, I do not think he will mind if you fall asleep either."

Aragorn smiled at their little exchange and he rubbed Brego's little star. "Thank you both," he said to them, patting Asfaloth's neck. The grey leaned down and nudged him while Brego snorted. He laughed and then looked over to Arwen again, a bit surprised to find her just beside him. "Has the decision been made?"

"With much deliberation," Arwen said softly. "She would like to ride Brego by herself…with you. If that is pleasing to everyone."

A moment of confusion crossed his features and then he laughed softly, realizing that was the way Annî's mind worked. "That pleases me," Aragorn replied, and he hopped easily onto Brego's bare back and Arwen reached to hand him Annî. "Come here, Annî." She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her to him as Arwen picked up the pack and then vaulted to Asfaloth's back. She scratched his neck with her fingers. She found that her hands were still shaking, and she fought to still them as she listened to Annî speaking with Aragorn.

"Tirion," she whispered, "are you angry?"

"No, dear one," he said gently. "Your Tiriel and I were very worried about you. We were afraid that we might lose you…and then what would I have told your mother, your father, when they returned home? We need to keep you safe, Annî, so it is important that you listen."

"I will," she replied in that same, soft voice, her face still buried in his neck.

"No one is angry with you," he said, and then he urged Brego forward. "Do you want to sit in front of me?" He felt her nod, and he scooted her down, leaning her back against him as she gripped his hand that held the reins. Arwen let Asfaloth fall into place beside Brego, but she left the reins on his neck; her hands were still shaking too badly to hold them.

"Until I get tired," she heard Annî say as she rubbed Brego's smooth hair with her hand.

"Then I will carry you home."

"Brego is so tall!" she exclaimed loudly, looking up towards the City as the sun was really beginning to fade. Aragorn was glad to hear her voice; he had been worried that the cat had left a terrible impression in her mind. But she seemed to be all right, and within a few moments began to jabber about what they were seeing, including Arwen in the conversation as well. He felt the subtle shift back to normalcy and it felt reasonable, not rushed or forced.

"Annî, you are a natural," he encouraged her.

"You are going to be as great a horsewoman as your mother," Arwen added.

"Good boy, Brego! Good boy!" She laughed, enjoying herself, and Brego tossed his head in response.

* * *

Night had fallen. On a normal day, this would bother no one, and everyone would go about their business as usual, especially the Rangers of Henneth Annûn. But this day was _different._ Enguina stared off into the deepening darkness from her position on the rock, looking down over the Forbidden Pool, her arms wrapped around the knees she had brought to her chest. She could easily tell that the sound was supposed to be soothing to her, the flowing of the waterfall, the jumping of the trout, and even the glistening of the full moon upon it was quite lovely. But no…her heart raced within her.

" _This is awful_ …" She heard Éowyn whisper the words from behind her, and she tried to think of a response she could make that the other woman might laugh at, simply to lighten the mood. The last thing that she wanted to do was confirm Éowyn's fears…or her own. "This waiting…it is unbearable."

Enguina turned to look at the woman who stood just off to the left of her, a shawl over her shoulders to keep out the brisk April evening chill and her arms wrapped across her chest as she, too, stared into the star-studded night sky. "You know what?" Enguina asked, a smile appearing on her face. "I bet the two of them are out there, riding around in the woods and having a good laugh at how worried we have been, just to spite us for being so upset with them this morning, and knowing that we were plotting behind Legolas's back." She nodded. "Yes, that is definitely it, Éowyn. More than likely, Legolas talked Faramir into it, and now, I bet Faramir is thinking he will get a grand homecoming—"

"If that were the case," Éowyn said a bit darkly, "what he would get is a massacre."

Enguina chuckled. "Éowyn, you amuse me so!"

"Enguina," Éowyn said softly, and the elf took pause at the tone of her voice, "both of our men were so worried about us this morning… _they were so worried_. There is no way… _no way_ they would keep us waiting this long."

"Éowyn—"

"I am _serious_. Deadly serious," she added, wrapping her hands lower around her stomach and closing her eyes. "I cannot help but think that they are lost somewhere—"

"You are starting to really worry me," Enguina replied as she sat up straighter, taking notice of Éowyn's position. "Is there something wrong with the baby?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, looking at her with surprise. "Why would you think—"

Enguina sighed in frustration. "Then stop doing that with your hands!" Éowyn stilled them immediately and crossed them back over her chest. "Remember what Galen told you? Faramir nearly _lived_ in these woods for twenty years; he would not be lost. They must be toying with—"

"Enguina, that is the reason I am so worried," she said gravely, taking up pacing again, which she had been doing for the past hour at least. "Faramir would never do this; not to me. Not when he knew how worried I was this morning. Not when Legolas was supposed to have a conversation with you about your dreams. Not when they promised us they would be home before the lunch hour!" She groaned. "I think them playing a game with us is something _we_ might do, but not them. Not now."

"No," added Gimli, coming up beside her and sighing, "I think that's certainly a _woman_ thing to do. But there must be _some_ explanation. Even if it was a joke, it's gone on quite long enough."

"They should have returned _hours_ ago," Éowyn said, tightening her fingers on her elbows. "There is no account that would make sense. We should be out there, searching—"

"Galen said—"

"Honestly, Enguina," Éowyn said, exasperated, "do you really give a damn about what Galen said?"

Enguina came to her feet and stood before her, placing her hands on Éowyn's arms and stilling her. " _Yes_ , Éowyn, I care what he thinks, because I am desperately trying not to panic and he seems a reasonable man. Anymore, I have been trying to take the word of reasonable men. And if this _is_ some sort of twisted tease of Legolas's, I am going to kill him myself when they return."

"With no remorse," added Gimli, nodding, and he reached out and caught Éowyn's arm himself. "Éowyn, come and sit down before you wear a gorge in this rock! You need to put your feet up."

"And you are a bit too close to the end for my taste," Enguina stated. "And stop _worrying_ …you are driving me _mad_."

Éowyn sighed and began to let them lead her back from the edge when she stopped suddenly. Enguina turned at the same time she did, both staring into the night toward the verge of the wood where they could swear they had heard the sound of hooves over the falls. Enguina hurried back to the rock where she had been sitting and, looking down, saw the head of a horse near the trees, walking slowly towards the caverns.

"Is that—" Éowyn began, but it was Enguina who turned to her with a smile.

"It is Dwimorisen, I think," she replied, and she immediately turned back, watching the horse for a few moments. There was something else…in the way he was walking…

And then she saw it—he bore no rider. The big dapple crossed out into the full moonlight, his gait off, his head low, his breast collar broken, and his saddle slipped to the left. Enguina stared and heard Gimli curse loudly in dwarvish before she realized the horse was covered with _wounds_. He was bloody, injured, and clearly in pain. _Where was Faramir_?

 _Oh Ilúvatar…oh Ilúvatar…where was_ _ **Legolas**_ _?_

She turned, saw that Éowyn was no longer at her side, and within seconds she and Gimli had plunged themselves into the caverns after the woman, making their way down through the halls and tunnels. Prayer after prayer spilled through her mind as panic began to give way to fear, her heart in her throat. She had seen Dwimor, where was Brethil? Where were Faramir and Legolas? What had happened? The adrenaline of not knowing had clearly given speed to Éowyn, because the poor pregnant woman was nowhere in sight, and Enguina paid little to no attention to her steps on the stones as she fled downwards towards the entrance, Gimli right at her heels.

As she ran and prayed, she could hear shouting from below; several of the Rangers, and Galen's voice above the rest, "Whoa! Whoa…easy there, Dwimor."

Enguina rounded the corner at the bottom and slipped on the stone, unfocused as she was on the terrain. She grasped the wall for support, but it was Gimli's hands that steadied her as her eyes focused on Éowyn standing there beside the dapple.

"Careful there, lass," Gimli cautioned her, and he let go of her arm as they both tried to catch their breath. Galen and several other Rangers began examining the horse's wounds, while Éowyn stood at the horse's head, stroking his ears as his head hung down in exhaustion. Dwimor was nettled with arrows in one flank, bleeding wounds on his neck, and a few arrows embedded in the saddle as well. Enguina covered her mouth and stood, staring, trying to gather her thoughts about her, to focus on what this might mean.

"What…" Gimli began, pushing forward, "where is Faramir? And where is Legolas?"

Galen looked over at the dwarf, shaking his head. "My men are searching the nearby woods on foot where Dwimor came from; they have found nothing yet of the Captain, and there is no sign of the Prince."

"What…what does that mean?" Enguina heard her own voice ask, adrenaline causing her body to begin shaking.

"My Lady," Galen said softly, "I do not know." Éowyn stepped forward then.

"Hiron," she said, waving a hand at one of the nearby Rangers, "see to Dwimorisen." She touched the horse's face and then turned to the friends who stood near. "Enguina, Gimli, Galen, anyone who is willing…get your horses ready. We ride out in moments; we will spread out and search the wood."

"The wood? In the dark? My Lady," Galen tried to caution her, "be reasonable—"

"This is my _husband_!" Éowyn snapped, her patience worn so thin she was going to lose her mind. "We will search all night if we must! Get moving right now. There is nothing that is more important— _nothing!_ Get your horses and we will follow whatever trails we can find and search everywhere!" He stepped in front of her and reached out to touch her shoulder; she rolled it back from him, her eyes aflame. "Either join me or get out of my way, Galen. Do not hinder me."

"Yes, my Lady," he said sheepishly, and he moved away so Hiron could take Dwimor to a stall.

The riders, among them Gimli, Enguina, and Éowyn, were in their saddles searching the woods before even ten minutes had passed.


	12. Chapter 12

" _Faramir!_ "

Éowyn's cry reverberated through the trees, Windfola trotting along, her anxiety pressing the horse forward faster than she even knew he was traveling. Enguina and Gimli rode parallel to her about forty feet away to either side, scanning the forest floor for any signs of life or travel. They had been able to follow Dwimor's path easily enough; the horse had been wandering in the woods quite lamely so they covered ground much more quickly than he had.

Enguina had never felt quite the dread, the horror, the absolute fear that threatened to eat her alive from the inside out that she felt now. This was different than her nightmares…this was real and it was happening right in from of her eyes. Her throat was raw, just as Éowyn's was, from calling for her love; they _had_ to be here…somewhere in these woods. Why had the Rangers not listened to Éowyn earlier when she had told them they needed to be found? Why had _she_ just remained silent, seated on that rock for the past hour when she should have been out searching herself? _Hours_ they had been out here, possibly hurt…perhaps _dying_ …or heaven forbid it, _dead_ already.

 _Ilúvatar! My sanctuary! I cry out to you! I am desperate for your peace, your hope…please! Where is he? Where are they, Faramir, Legolas? Please, I have never felt so much desperation, Father! Not even for myself! Where is he? Help me find him! Help me, god, please!_

Enguina's breath caught as she tried to call out Legolas's name again; she heard Gimli do it instead. She reached up to furiously wipe away the tears that threatened to fall, and she tried to pull herself together. There was no _way_ she could lose him; she would be lost forever, never to again find herself, to live, to breathe…she could not face life without Legolas at her side. She could feel the darkness coming at her from all sides; she was frantically driving it back.

" _Faramir!_ "

"Éowyn!" cried Galen, his voice a little way ahead. Enguina's head shot up and she watched as he dismounted quickly beside a fallen figure. "This man is dead!"

"One of ours?" Éowyn turned Windfola towards him.

"No…he appears to be of Gondorian descent, but not a soldier."

"I see another!" called Gimli, dismounting himself and hurrying to another fallen figure discovered in the moonlight. "This man's an elf!" Enguina turned Lómë toward him and studied the face from horseback.

"Mirkwood features," she added, and then saw another lying on his back not two feet to her right. Her voice showed her surprise as she said, "This one is of Lórien descent."

"What are they doing out here?" asked Éowyn.

"This elf was shot by a Gondorian arrow," Gimli pointed out.

"The man was shot by a Lórien arrow," added Galen, and Enguina's breath caught again. "My guess is Legolas and Faramir both fought here."

Éowyn spurred Windfola forward around another tree as she kept scanning the ground. She pulled up short and yelled loudly, "Enguina! Come here and look at these men!" Enguina immediately rode to her side and looked down to where Éowyn pointed, studying the ground and the prone figures. "What can you read in that?" she asked, turning Windfola away. " _Faramir!_ " she called again.

" _Legolas_ ," Enguina breathed, and dismounted, seeing the clear and precise cuts on two of the figures, the last haphazardly killed. Shoving a foot under the man, she kicked him over onto his back, and then leaned down and yanked Legolas's white knife from between his ribs. She wiped it and tucked it down into her belt, unable to hang it anywhere else. Something had happened…something _awful_ …

"The elf wouldn't be without that," she heard Gimli say, and though she searched around for its mate, she could not find it. She gave up, instead looking for signs of Legolas.

" _Faramir!_ " She heard Éowyn scream, and it was in the turn of her tone that Enguina knew she had found him. She left Lómë standing where he was and she fled in the direction of Éowyn's voice. The woman herself was running towards a prone figure; even in the moonlight it was clear Faramir was badly wounded. She could hear the other Rangers trotting over towards them, and she watched as Éowyn dropped to her knees beside her husband, tears glistening in the moonlight that shined to the forest floor through the trees.

" _Eru be merciful!_ " Éowyn wept, and her hands fell on him and became slick with blood as they touched his tunic. She reached up and felt his face. " _He is so cold_ …" she moaned, and Enguina went to her, flooded with terror that Faramir was dead. She had to get Éowyn away from him, had to know if he was alive, if there was anything they could do to save him. The woman before her yanked off her cloak and covered him with it, arrows protruding out from his left side and one from his right leg. He lay half on his side, an arrow jutting out from his back, the arrow preventing him from being able to be rolled over; it must have been excruciatingly painful to be trapped like that.

"Éowyn, come away…let Galen—"

"No, no!" she cried out as Galen drew near. "He is mine! My responsibility! My husband!" Her hands were on his face trying to be sure there was life in his cheeks, searching for the slightest bit of warmth. " _Faramir_ ," she whimpered, even as Galen tried to draw her back, " _Faramir…god, please!_ "

For the briefest of moments, Enguina saw the moonlight reflected in the man's eyes, and she felt her breath catch, fearing the worst; then he blinked and the relief she felt buckled her knees. Gimli caught her; she had never realized he had been that close, and he lowered her to the ground, her hand over her heart as she tried to collect herself.

"Éowyn…" Faramir breathed, and she broke down, pressing her forehead to his as she began to sob as she stroked his hair, her tears falling on his face. "Sorry…sorry…" His voice was broken from exhaustion, thirst, and pain.

"You are going to be all right," she gasped out as she tried to breathe. "You are going to be fine, fine!" She felt his eyes flutter closed against her cheek and then open again with a serious struggle. Lifting her head, she wrapped her hands around his face again, looking down into them. "Hold on with me, love…hold on."

" _Legolas_ …" he groaned, and Enguina suddenly lunged forward out of Gimli's grasp as both of them launched themselves to Faramir's side.

"What about 'im, lad?" cried Gimli frantically. "Where is he!? There's no sign of him!"

Faramir coughed once, pain spreading across his features as tears fell on Enguina's face. She wanted so badly to do what Éowyn was doing, to touch Faramir, to cling to him, as she would have done to Legolas. " _Enguina…_ " he whispered, and then she did reach out and touch him, grasping his arm a bit more forcefully than she should have.

Somehow, she found her voice, and forced out, "I am here, Faramir."

He could not look at her; he had no strength to turn his head. His eyes closed and he muttered, "They took him…they took him."

"Rest, Faramir," she whispered. The man knew nothing else, and Éowyn's hands were beginning to shake. She lifted her eyes to Galen. "You need to get him back to Henneth Annûn, immediately. He needs a healer."

"He needs the King," Gimli stated, and nodded towards Éowyn, "and she is going to collapse."

Enguina reached over and stroked Éowyn's hair, the woman's brow now once again pressed to Faramir's. Éowyn's whole body was shaking; Enguina did not like where that might be headed. She turned back to Galen. "Take them back; Gimli and I and a few of your other men will—"

"This one is alive!" they heard Hiron call from a few yards away. "An elf…badly wounded, but alive."

Gimli turned immediately, snarling, "Let me at him! I'll tear him apart!"

Enguina threw herself to her feet and grabbed his arm. "Gimli, he is unconscious! He cannot tell you anything!"

"Wake him, then!" he growled. "We'll have answers, or we'll have his head!"

A low sigh from off to their right caught their sudden attention, and they turned to see Glosbrethil, standing in the moonlight, his flea-bitten coat now stained with dirt and blood. He was not bearing any weight on his left side, and his saddle had slid off to the right, his reins broken and tangled around the briars that he had somehow found himself in. Unable to rescue himself, he could not escape, and he had been abandoned.

"Oh, Brethil," Enguina murmured, stroking his bloody and scratched face where he had clearly been trying to escape. Gimli and she made short work of the briars, freeing the stallion. He nickered once and sighed, and for a moment Enguina fervently wished that she could understand their language like Aragorn could. But she could understand at least that Brethil felt guilt, and she touched him. "It is not your fault," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "We will find him."

She discovered that Gimli had, at least for the moment, forgotten all about the elf; Hiron, with the help of another Ranger, was getting the unconscious prisoner on horseback. They tied his wrists and then Hiron mounted behind him; they would need to hurry back to Henneth Annûn if they were to save him and Faramir. Faramir had also been dragged onto a horse, the arrows removed and the wounds bound as well as they could be for the moment. He was unconscious, and his head hung down; Éowyn stood near his leg, simply unable to take her hands from him, tears still pouring down her face. Enguina went to her and took her in her arms.

"Shh…" she said, holding Éowyn tightly, pressing her cheek to her forehead. "You _found_ him. You found him and he is going to be all right. Stop worrying…go back to the Pool, care for your husband. Everything is going to be all right."

"Legolas," Éowyn whispered, and Enguina steeled everything inside herself that brought despair and thrust it from her like a disease.

"We will find him. You need to go back; let Gimli and I worry for Legolas. Faramir, and that babe within you," she said softly, "they need you now. Give _them_ your heart, Éowyn, and leave me to find mine."

Éowyn knew in that moment she would not see Enguina that night in Henneth Annûn, nor Gimli. There was no way possible that they would not ride after the strangers that had come, and she knew that she would have done much the same. "Please be safe. I will pray ceaselessly."

"And I for you. Go," she said, kissing her on the forehead and releasing her. As Éowyn turned away, Enguina saw two men galloping off into the woods away from Galen who held Faramir upright, Gimli near the man's foot.

"We ride for Henneth Annûn," Galen called to his men. "See what you can find here, and join us as quickly as you may. If there are any more survivors, bring them back to the caverns. We will question them."

As soon as Éowyn was mounted once more on Windfola, the group was in motion, Glosbrethil trailing behind, ponied to one of the Rangers mounts. Enguina watched them go with a heavy heart until she could see them no more, Gimli at her side as several of the other Rangers continued searching the area. Then both of them turned to see what other messages lay strewn about for them to find among the dead; their eyes peeled for the trail they knew they would find no matter what they needed to do…the one that would lead them to Legolas.

* * *

Sweat pouring down her back, Arwen woke with a cry on her lips, bolting upright in bed, gasping for breath. The covers fell from her and into her lap as she reached a shaking hand to touch her face. She felt Aragorn's hand in her damp hair, listened to her own breathing, felt him sit up beside her.

"Arwen?" he said, alarmed. This was not a nightmare about the child; this was different, and he knew it immediately. His hand fell onto her upper back and then traveled to her shoulders; her nightdress was soaking wet. "You are trembling," he whispered. "What has happened?"

"A dream…" she replied, her voice shaking like her hands. She felt the adrenaline course through her again, an urgent need, a desperate plea; she could not remember the dream. "Something…" she gasped, "something urgent…something _dreadful_ …"

"What? What is it? Enguina?" She shook her head. She knew what he meant; she had dreams of Enguina before, of the past. These were not of the past, but of the future; that much was clear to her. She felt his warmth try to control her trembling. "What did you feel? Can you remember?"

"Pain… _agony_ …" she whispered, lowering her head into her hand, pain pulsing through her skull from the tension. " _Suffering_ , _Aragorn_ …" Her voice was thick with worry, anxiety; she felt his fingers slide into her hair, rubbing from her scalp down the back of her neck. He knew just where it ached.

"New?" She nodded. "Was it centered on a person?"

"I do not know," she said, "but…I am afraid."

That worried him. Usually, her dreams were of events that had happened already, that were weighing on her, such as the child or Enguina's difficulties. This was different, and Elvish premonitions were not to be taken lightly for any reason. He was silent for a few moments, thinking; in the morning, he would send out messengers toward Ithilien, and he would call for more guards. This was within reason; whatever he needed to do, he would see it done.

"I…" she began again, reaching up to cover his hand with her own, hers like ice, "I feel a great need to pray… _please_ …" He took her hand in his own and brought it to his lips before bringing her whole head to him, pressing his lips to her hair before resting his brow against her head.

"Father, Father, we come before you tonight," he whispered, "two souls seeking you for peace, for mercy. Somewhere, someone desperately needs you tonight, or they will need you soon. Find them, seek them out, and show them your great love, your strength…that even as this shadow passes over them, they will see your face and know you are near. Great Ilúvatar, Father of All, know our hearts. Whatever Arwen has seen, bring your healing into it, to calm the storm; even if we cannot know what it is, we know that you can bring it to peace.

"We think about those we love in Ithilien," he continued softly, and he felt her shoulders tighten. "We cannot help but worry that they are safe when they are so far from us. Protect them; keep them in your care and your comfort. May your presence rest in and around them; who should they fear when you are close beside? May your everlasting light reign in the darkness."

"Amen," she whispered, and though she felt a little more ease, the memory of the pain and grief remained locked in her mind.

"It will be all right," he told her gently. The worrisome thought that their five loved ones were in danger threatened to overwhelm him. There was nothing they could do at the moment except what they had already done. She was beginning to shiver now against him, and he slowly took her back down with him under their sheets and tugged her closely into his chest as she pressed her damp forehead to his neck.

"I am so afraid for them," she said, fear choking her, even as she tried to give the worry to Ilúvatar. "I almost feel as though I cannot get warm. I am struggling to close my eyes."

"When you do, do you see anything?"

"No…just flashes of feelings," she said.

Arwen pressed herself against him as tightly as she could. The dreams weighed heavily on her mind; they laid there like that for what seemed like hours, all the while she begged Ilúvatar for peace, just to let her find some bliss in sleep. How could sleep find her? How could it, when all she could think of was that something terrible was happening elsewhere? She felt her heart tighten, felt tears threaten, and she pressed her face closer into Aragorn's neck and he held her even tighter, his embrace like the warmth of a hearth.

She felt the vibration of his throat against her head before she realized that his humming was reaching her ears. Her eyes fluttered closed finally then, his song comforting, soothing her aching heart. He knew what she was feeling; he felt it as keenly as she did, but they knew nothing, only her dream and her urgency. She was so thankful for him in that moment that she nearly lost the fight to keep the tears from coming.

The doorway creaked, and Aragorn immediately lifted his head from hers, his music stopping. He sat up when he recognized the figure, and Arwen sat up as well, looking over towards the doorway.

"Annî?" he asked, seeing her silhouette in the moonlight. "Is everything all right?" They watched as she shook her head, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "Come here, Annî." The little girl shook her head again, and Arwen tossed her legs over the side of the bed and walked towards her. Annî ran into her open arms, burying her face in Arwen's legs.

Arwen ran her fingers through her hair. "Did you have a dream, chên nîn?"

"I saw the cat, Tiriel," she whispered. "It was big and angry and it was going to eat me."

Arwen leaned down and scooped her up into her arms, kissing her face. "It is all right," she whispered. "It was only a dream."

"Can I stay here with you?" she pleaded.

Arwen turned back to the bed and wondered if they should. Would she even be able to sleep herself? Did she want the child between her and Aragorn when she was selfish of his care, his love? Was it all right to allow the child, even still so young, to sleep among them? Would Faramir and Éowyn allow her? Aragorn met her eyes and nodded; the decision made.

Soon, Annî was sandwiched between the two of them, her head tucked into Arwen's chest and Aragorn's arm over both of them. She lay there quietly, eyes wide open, as Arwen stroked her hair and Aragorn's fingers played with the back of Arwen's, his left arm wrapped over the top of her pillow.

Minutes passed as the two of them lay there with her, and then Andúnêiel's voice broke the silence. "I can't sleep."

 _Neither can I, precious._ "Shh…" Arwen whispered, "just try to close your eyes." She stroked her face and the little girl did try, snuggling closer between them. Arwen looked over at Aragorn and could feel herself almost _begging_ for him. He smiled, and began humming softly again.

It was Annî who sighed first, her eyes easily closing; Arwen had been feeling it welling up inside herself long before that. The peace of Aragorn was what everyone in the House seemed to need at the moment. Even though Arwen was usually the lullaby-maker, tonight it was Aragorn who needed to soothe both of them. The words of his song lulled them both to sleep.

 _In the hush of evening when all the world should be asleep_

 _Oft we find that it is our own company we keep_

 _When all alone and trouble seems to close in all around_

 _The One takes us in his care and keeps us safe and sound_

 _In the care of morning when dawn is drawing near_

 _A bit of peace we have to breathe in the cool and calming air_

 _The light of morning chases the darkness, fast and far away_

 _And all we have becomes our hope within the light of day_

 _Hope, and dream, instead of fear, for when trouble is nigh_

 _The One is watching over you, His presence at your side._

* * *

Enguina leaned quietly against a tree, feeling the exhaustion of the last three hours very heavily. Gimli still wandered among the Rangers, still searching for any other sign of Legolas, but this was a bit too much for her; blood, gore, death…these were not her normal circles. Her hands began to wring themselves on their own accord, terror coursing through her. Fear and worry had been her constant companions since before dinner, now they gnawed at her even as she stood silently.

 _I must find him…I must find him_. The words played over and over again in her mind; there was an ache inside her to know that he was safe, to bring the people who had done this to justice would be satisfying, but it would not bring her peace. No, the only thing that would bring peace was crushing herself against Legolas's chest and tightening her arms around him and not releasing him until they had been married a week. The thought made her smile.

"My Lady," a voice off to her left spoke. She lifted her head and tried to remember the man's name. She had been lost in her thoughts, and therefore had barely noticed that most of the Rangers were on horseback already. Tandaarin… _that_ was his name…

"What is happening?" she asked, confused. "Tandaarin, where are your men going?"

"We have discovered everything we can here, and we were told to report back to Henneth Annûn as soon as things here were complete. We have burned the bodies," he added, frowning.

"There has been no sign of Prince Legolas?" she asked him, and he shook his head.

"No, Lady…nothing. Lord Gimli found some tracks leading off to the northwest, but we are unsure if they are the tracks of the men who must have taken him. Either way, it is time to return home. We can do no more tonight."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. "Forgive me, Tandaarin…what are you saying?"

He looked at her apologetically. "I mean that we are under orders to return immediately, they were understood for all of us, for you and Lord Gimli as well." He gave her a grimace. "Not that I can tell you what to do, my Lady—"

"No, you cannot," she agreed, "and you _will_ not." She shook her head. "I would sooner die before I would stop now, when I have barely begun, and return home. You are under orders, Tandaarin, and I have no such restrictions. Gimli and I will be doing our utmost to follow the trail he has discovered."

"What're we to be doing?" asked Gimli suddenly, coming to their sides and leaning on his axe.

"The Lady insists you shall not return to Henneth Annûn with us," Tandaarin said, sighing heavily. "She said that you will be following the trail."

"Too right we will," Gimli insisted.

"What about the Lady Éowyn? She shall be worried sick about you."

"Lieutenant!" called another one of the Rangers, but Tandaarin ignored him for a moment.

"Éowyn already knows about our leaving," Enguina said. "Do not worry for us, Tandaarin. As soon as you may, you can follow us with more men, but we will be on the hunt as of tonight."

"You can, however," added Gimli, "leave us some of your extra food and waterskins, as we are not packed well-enough for such a journey, and going back will waste far too much time."

" _And_ as many arrows as you can spare," Enguina said with a smile.

"Aye," the man replied, sighing again, "that, at least, I can do. We will follow after you as soon as we may, or as soon as my orders allow me. The Captain, with Lord Faramir sorely wounded, will be far more eager to seek justice, I think." He nodded slowly. "Yes, let me supply you as best I can."

Within several minutes, Enguina had a quiver stuffed full of arrows and they had enough supplies at least for several days of traveling. They knew that traveling alone in this darkness would not be easy, but they could see no other choice; they _had_ to find Legolas. After they had been supplied, Tandaarin mounted his horse as Gimli and Enguina stood beside their mounts near the trail they intended to follow.

"Good hunting, friends, and be safe," he stated.

"Be sure to tell the Lady where we've gone," Gimli added, frowning. "And if you haven't sent messengers yet towards Minas Tirith—"

"Do not worry, Lord Gimli; they were the first set of riders to leave the area."

"And if anyone tries to complain that you didn't stop us, tell 'em that you didn't notice we were gone until it was already too late and that you'd no choice but to let us go," Gimli instructed him.

"I will do that," he laughed. "Again, good hunting!" He held up a hand and then turned, instructing his men to follow him.

As the Rangers of Ithilien filed out on horseback and traveled towards Henneth Annûn once more, Enguina turned to Gimli. "Tell me everything you can about what you found."

The dwarf sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. I found a trail, as good as it is, and that's the way I think we should be heading out. I am fairly certain that they traveled that way." He tugged on Firgenwine's reins and tossed them over her head. "I'm thinking the faster we get, the faster we'll find him. Most of the men in this area were killed nearly half-a-day ago." He frowned at her; at least the moon was full and they had a clear sky.

She slipped the quiver across her back and took Legolas's wrapped knife and attached it to Lómë's saddle. "Let us follow this path you have found, Gimli," she said softly as she mounted gracefully. "We have lost so much time, but perhaps we can gain on them. Let us stay to their trail as much as we can."

"At least we've got the light for it," Gimli admitted as he mounted. "I'll lead the way for a bit then?"

"Please," Enguina stated, and the little pony trotted off towards their new path, Lómë following willingly behind. This would _have_ to lead them to Legolas; they _had_ to find him. If Faramir was so wounded, what more had they done to Legolas? Enguina could hardly think the question, and would never dare to ask. She was afraid of hearing the answer.

* * *

Galen and Hiron had laid the wounded Faramir and the elf they had found on mats within the infirmary. Even though the elf was an enemy, they knew he was alive and might possibly give them information they desperately needed about the attack…providing he survived the night. Both men were unconscious, but the Rangers were particularly worried about their Captain. Faramir was gravely wounded, and his wife sat at his side, watching as the Healer tried to make him comfortable. The more Éowyn watched, the more worried she became. Some of the wounds had not stopped bleeding; she could tell by how pale he was that he was very weak. He had been out in the sun all day with no water and no care, and he was beginning to appear sickly, his skin clammy and cold. She covered him with another blanket, taking note of the way his teeth were clenched even in sleep.

Éowyn took Faramir's hand and gently brought it to her lips. "Oh my dear…do not leave me," she whispered fiercely, though her words fell on deaf ears. "Faramir, please… _fight_. I cannot—" Her voice cut off and she swallowed back the tears that threatened to pour down her face. " _Do not go_."

"My Lady…" She heard Galen's voice behind her and she placed Faramir's hand in her lap, clutching it tightly. She was not about to let him go, not even if Galen begged her, but she did lift her head to look at him. His hand was extended to her. "My Lady, you need to rest; it is the middle of the night. Come, and I will find you a bed to rest in."

"I will not leave him," she said, shaking her head. "Do not ask me again."

There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at each other. "This stone is not good to sit on, my Lady. You will catch a chill, and then both you and the Captain will be ill."

" _Please…_ " she whispered, and this time the tears spilled over, "I _need_ to stay with him. How can I think about myself when—"

Faramir groaned, and she immediately turned from Galen to look at him, gripping his hand even more tightly. "Faramir? Faramir?" she said urgently, and the Healer looked up from the bandage he had been applying to see the man's face.

Faramir opened his eyes and Éowyn wet a cloth from the nearby bowl and gently wiped the sweat, blood, and dirt from his brow and face. He watched her, and she felt the hand in her lap squeeze hers. "Éowyn," he whispered, and she laid a trembling hand against his face. "Éowyn, why are you crying?" He forced the words out, and she reached up to try and wipe them away.

"I am fine," she replied, trying to smile at him. He tried to smile back, but it was difficult as the Healer tied off another bandage.

He coughed once. "Water?"

Galen moved immediately so that Éowyn did not have to let him go, and reached out with a water skin, which she carefully let him drink from. Then, she wiped off his brow again and covered it with the damp, cool cloth, listening to him sigh. She could tell he would not be awake for long as his eyelids were fluttering. She stroked his eyebrows and his cheeks gently with her fingertips.

"Éowyn," he murmured, "you should not be on this stone floor. Think of the baby."

"I was too distracted thinking of you."

"I will not have it," he whispered, his eyes closing under her touch. "You must always come first." He forced his eyes open and found Galen. They narrowed. "My wife needs to rest; she needs a place to lie down."

Galen bowed to him immediately, smiling inwardly. "I have prepared a place for her, my Captain. She will rest, I am sure, as soon as she is certain you are safe."

"Take her there now," he instructed. "This stone is cold—"

"I will go when I see fit," Éowyn muttered, leaning down to kiss him roughly on the forehead, "and when you are ill, _you_ come first. I will rest after I know you are out of danger."

"You are dead on your—"

"This is an argument you cannot win," she told him, stroking his face. " _You_ need to rest, and when you wake I shall be at your side."

Then he _did_ smile as he looked at Galen. "My wife."

"Indeed, my Lord, she certainly is your wife," the man laughed.

"Legolas?" he asked and Galen shook his head while Éowyn answered.

"Rangers are searching for the trail, along with Gimli and Enguina. It will not be long before they find him." She watched his eyes close. "Faramir?" she called softly, and then she realized he was not awake again. She was terribly worried about him as she stroked the hair from his forehead. Trying to smile, trying desperately to press the worry back, she leaned down at kissed the end of his nose and then sat back.

Galen sighed and began again. "Perhaps the bed—"

She turned her head and glared at him, and that was enough to silence him on the subject…at least for an hour or so.


	13. Chapter 13

They had been riding for nearly sixteen hours and though some of the men were beginning to complain, Vilyath knew that it was _not_ the time to halt and camp. She would ride for at least a day before they would dismount; they could not allow anyone following them to catch up to him. They had to act quickly; it was common knowledge that the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen had relentless and powerful friends. She knew this from the stories of the War of the Ring, and she had no intention of allowing them to inflict restitution on _her_.

Glancing back as far as she could through their small line of troops, there was just enough moonlight so she could tell that their captive still lay motionless across the back of the horse he was tied to. That was very good, considering that from the rumors _she_ had heard, he was a formidable opponent; a skilled archer and clever warrior, Legolas was not a man to be trifled with. She turned back about and scouted ahead, studying the woods.

Vilyath sighed and shook her head, surprised at herself; she was actually feeling _sorry_ that she did not have Soronar to talk to. In fact, she felt a bit sorry that she had not stood by him. If he had only helped them, he would still be alive. As much as she had bickered with him, as much as they had judged each other, he had been a man of principle and she had admired that about him, even grudgingly.

Her horse startled suddenly, and she reined him in quickly as he shied to the left. She easily brought him back on course, and upon doing that, cursed herself for reminiscing and thinking when she should have had her mind on the moment.

* * *

Pressure was building in his head and he ached to relieve it, yet Legolas did not want to move until his body and mind registered where he was. His senses were beginning to come back, but he could tell that he had been unconscious for some time. Feeling the rhythm of the horse's walk, he could easily see that he was on horseback, lying over the saddle like a sack of flour instead of sitting upright, his head hanging down. No wonder there was pressure in his head.

 _Everything_ hurt. He was uncomfortable from head to toe, but his hip pained him the most at the moment. And his shoulders. And his… _forget it_. Everything hurt, and he knew it. His hands were tied at the wrists, but his feet were not; to Legolas, this meant escape; these people did not want to kill him, so there was a very good chance he might be able to hurry off into the woods. He cracked his eyes just enough to see the ground, and found that there was still bright moonlight, but it was broken by groups of trees. If he waited for the darkness, he could slip from the horse, take out anyone who was near him, and run. Even not knowing where he was did not hinder him; he could easily figure that out once he had escaped.

He listened; he spied; he waited for just the right moment—how many riders were behind? How many were ahead? How dark would it need to be so they did not see him? How many trees would provide just the right amount of cover? All very important questions for him.

The moment arrived, and he gathered his strength and shoved himself from the horse's back; he landed on the balls of his feet—and found his legs did not support him. Dropping down, he rolled away from the animal to the nearest tree before the one directly behind him caught up. He needed to pull himself together fast if he was going to escape. Battling the pain that was slowing him by the moment, he used the tree's bark to drag himself to his feet and then launched himself out of the underbrush at the next horse. The man never even had time to scream as Legolas used his fingers to jab into his windpipe; even with his hands tied together, it was an effective move. The man reached for his neck, Legolas yanked the knife from the man's sheath and sliced him with it, letting him hang back along the saddle, his feet still caught in the stirrups, blood pouring from the wound in his neck. Legolas sliced the bonds on his hands, and backed into the bushes again…waiting.

For a second time, and this one with a bit less stealth, he lunged out and leapt up far enough to stab the man, no, elf, plunging the knife through his heart. Leaving it in place, he quickly grabbed the black's reins and tugged the horse to a stop. He dragged the elf down from the saddle, allowing him to thump on the ground, placed the knife into his own sheath, and mounted the horse quickly. Ignoring how uncomfortable it had been to climb into the saddle, he turned the beast about and kicked the unwilling animal into a jostling, painful trot. He was fortunate that there had only been two men behind him and he had been able to kill them both; now he just had to ride straight home along the path they had come.

He had not been in the saddle for more than five seconds before he was cursing himself and his luck as he bit his lips hard; Ilúvatar in Heaven, was it possible there could be a more uncomfortable horse in Middle-Earth? He was in no condition for this! Knowing immediately that he would be unable to ride in the saddle for even a minute with the mind-numbing pain he was in, he tried kicking the beast up to a lope. The horse refused, becoming more agitated as his ears pinned against his head; the beast had been riding along for miles, and it was tired and hungry. Legolas would normally never ask anything more of such a pitiful creature, but he had no choice.

Reaching up, he snapped a branch off the tree. That was all it took for the horse to forget its tiredness and take to the road with new energy, breaking into a lope that was easy to ride and so much more comfortable than the black's jarring trot. He breathed a sigh of relief, but kept his eyes ahead and his ears behind. They would know he was missing very soon, and he had to get as far away as he could. He had no interest in his injuries; there was nothing he could do about them while on horseback, and there was no way he could inventory them when he could barely see them.

No, he would simply have to work with what he had. The black beneath him loped on.

* * *

The first hint that something was wrong came in the form of a shout from behind her. Vilyath immediately stopped her horse upon hearing Omarom's voice and whirled her about. Cries and exclamations were heard, and she spurred her horse down the line back to where the elf sat, shouting.

"What in the world, Omarom—"

"He is gone! The captive is gone and two of our men are dead!" he said, pointing at the riderless horse and the man who Vilyath realized had his throat slit. "He must have woken!"

"How could they not have seen him?" she snapped in disbelief. "Where _is_ the Prince?"

"He must have taken the last horse," Dragsúl stated from off to her left, his horse agitated at the smell of the dead. Two men dismounted to take care of the body; where the other dead elf was, no one knew. Vilyath growled under her breath.

"This is going to cost us time, time we do not have."

"He cannot have gone far," Omarom told her. "He was not in good health."

"No, he cannot be far; I looked back not a half hour ago. If he is as wounded as you say, perhaps he did not get far. We must follow him immediately." She turned back to the group. "You five will come with us; the rest of you stay here. We will return shortly."

Setting off at a gallop, the riders went in search for their missing captive.

* * *

After a few miles of hard riding, Vilyath noticed a horse ahead, grazing in a small clearing; he bore no rider, but it was obvious the horse had been part of their company. They slowed and began scanning the area.

"Carefully," cautioned Vilyath. "The Prince must be nearby."

She remained on the edge of the field, watching the surrounding area. The men, led by Dragsúl, headed out into the field to capture the horse, who gave them no trouble at all. They had just begun searching the edges of the field when a cry was heard, and one of the elves dropped from the saddle.

" _Dismount!_ " hollered Dragsúl, and immediately the men began doing so, hiding behind their mounts as to protect themselves. One man was not as lucky; just as he was swinging over, an arrow fired into his throat and he dropped to the ground, his horse dancing away from him. Omarom drew his bow and fired back blindly at the tree, where there was a grunt of pain, and a bow dropped down from the tree and fell to the ground.

"He is down!" Omarom yelled, and the three of them raced forward to the base of the tree, waiting for Legolas himself to fall. They looked up into the branches, and the middle elf suddenly cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, a knife plunged through the sinew between his shoulder and neck. Omarom backed away, aiming his bow into the tree, but Dragsúl slung his over his shoulder and placed his hands on his hips.

"You are out of _weapons_ , Prince!" he called, laughing aloud. "Your bow is here and your knife. All you have are a few measly arrows and you cannot throw them hard enough to hurt us. Come on down here before we shoot you down!" Omarom, still aiming into the branches, took a few steps closer to the tree.

There was silence from above as Legolas remained still and quiet. He stared down into the faces of his hunters; he was the hunted. Aching with pain, another arrow through his shoulder, he could not believe the tall elf had hit him with such a blind shot. Unable to move out of the way, he had been struck by it. He sat now on the same limb he had when he had painstakingly climbed into the tree. He could do nothing else—in a straight-on fight with these men he was bear bait—and when the riding had proven too much for his battered body, he had taken to the trees for safety. The blasted horse had given him away, though unknowingly. The black had followed him to the clearing and chosen to graze there, and climbing back down the tree to be rid of the horse had been completely out of the question. So, in pain so troublesome he could barely see straight, he sat on the branch, knowing they were right…he was out of weapons.

"I have a clear shot," whispered Omarom. "Should I take it?"

Instead of replying, Dragsúl shouted up to Legolas, "One last chance!"

"Go to the pits of Utunmo!" came the voice from above, but no matter how fiercely he meant it, it fell weakly even upon his own ears. He was faint, and it was a struggle now just to keep his head upright, which he chose not to bother with as he dropped it back against the bark of the tree.

 _Father…is she thinking of me?_ Why that was the only thought in his mind when he should have been worried about dying at the hands of these two men, he had no idea. But his heart was completely focused on Enguina. He was supposed to be sitting with her right now, holding her close as he listened to her story about her dreams…

"What are you two _doing_?" he heard a voice snap, and he raised his head to look down on a she-elf that had come close to the base of the tree.

"The Prince is topside," laughed Dragsúl. "We were getting ready to shoot him down."

"We need him alive, fool," she growled. "Get him down _somehow_."

Omarom looked up into the branches. "I do not want to shoot you again like a common animal, Legolas. Come down so you will live and your father will not mourn you. No one will harm you again if you come down now."

Legolas weighed his choices as he listened to them mutter to each other. What choice did he have? There was no way he could stay up here all night; he had no supplies, and he was bloody and badly wounded, and if they waited him out, he would certainly die up here. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was climb back down the tree to the waiting trio, but he had to keep himself alive if he could. Living another day in the hands of kidnappers was better than dying in the branches of a tree.

"Do not fire," he called down tiredly. "I am coming down."

He began to slowly climb down, regretting every step he had to retrace; he had not known how badly injured he was until he had ridden a mile and he had barely been able to sit upright in the saddle. No, this was the only choice he could make now.

He should have been expecting it, but he had not been. As soon as he was low enough for them to reach, someone grabbed his tunic and yanked him backwards off the bark he was clinging to. With nothing to grab onto and no way to defend himself, he fell onto his back and was clubbed mercilessly by someone's fist: once in the chest, the stomach, and the ribs. Rolling onto his side, trying to protect himself, he heard someone yelling, but more blows came and he felt searing pain race through the back of his skull…and then everything went dark again.

* * *

The sun was rising, and finally, the trail was becoming clear to Gimli and Enguina. The dwarf had been riding ahead, but after an hour or so, he had to walk to find and stick to the trail. His eyes, which generally were excellent in the dark, had felt so bleary that he felt as though he rubbed them constantly. But now, with the light coming, they would be able to move much more rapidly. Without a doubt, Lómë and Firgenwine felt that anticipation building.

Enguina watched Gimli, but her thoughts were focused inwardly on Legolas. Yes, she worried for Faramir and prayed for him and for Éowyn, but every time she did, her thoughts drifted back to the one who mattered most to her. How could she think of anyone but him, including herself? Hang her tiredness; hang the hour! This was the man who would be her husband!

She knew, they both had known, that following the trail would be hard. She was not a great tracker, nor was Gimli, even though they were only some hours behind, not days. The trail had been very hard to see in the dark as well, but she had to believe that the kidnappers' large group of riders were moving slower through the forests of Ithilien. She had even spent a few moments reminiscing over Aragorn and Legolas tracking her a few months ago; but they were _great_ trackers. Gimli was one of the Hunters, but he was not a great trail-finder; no, that was Aragorn. But they had to make-do; they were on their own, and Legolas needed to be found.

"Enguina," Gimli called back to her, turning in the pony's saddle, "I think its light enough now to pick up the pace! Let's gain on them as many hours as we can."

As Firgenwine broke to a trot and then a lope, Enguina asked Lómë to move out as well; if they were lucky enough, in the next few hours they would close the gap.

* * *

Another evening had come and gone since Arwen had the nightmare; it was early morning in Minas Tirith and Annî was once again lying on the ground near the stone wall surrounding the Fountain, and Arwen was resting her head against it, watching the clouds roll by. She had finished reading Annî a story, and now the little girl was drawing a picture for the story on another piece of parchment. This morning, the sun had risen with an ominous sky, and Arwen was beginning to think that something was definitely wrong somewhere. She prayed and prayed that it had nothing to do with their loved ones.

Annî was completely oblivious to this, of course. Aragorn had taken them down to get muffins this morning before he had gone to scout the work being completed on the fourth level. He had smoothed her hair while Annî was munching, kissed her forehead, and told her everything was going to be just fine. She _wanted_ to believe him, but she knew that _he_ knew better; her dream was not so much a dream as it was a vision…and it was haunting her.

She pushed it from her mind, trying to focus on the positive. Annî was enjoying herself, though all day yesterday she had stayed so close to Arwen it seemed she was attached to her at the hip. The catamount had definitely instilled a bit of fear in her, but they had gone to visit the horses again this morning and Annî had hugged and kissed them. She seemed fine, and there had been no nightmares for her last night either. It was getting easier to think of Annî without thinking of her missing child, and the longer she was with them, the more on terms with it she seemed to become. Perhaps Aragorn had been right; it made her smile. She enjoyed when he was right, that he knew her better than she knew herself. To some, that might seem an annoyance, to her, it was a gift.

She breathed in the thick scent of the blossoms of the tree and the new buds that were growing among the bushes and suddenly, she felt Annî's presence as she flung her arms around her neck and threw herself into Arwen's lap. Her breath huffed out in surprise, but she laughed anyway.

"Annî! You startled me!"

She giggled. "Tiriel, what were you doing?"

"I was just thinking, little one. Did you finish your drawing?"

"No," she replied and then looked up at the fountain. "Mommy and I came here with Daddy, and we sat right there. And I remember because Mommy splashed Daddy with water." She grinned and leaned her forehead against Arwen's, staring into her eyes. "And then Daddy splashed both Mommy and me, so we were even wetter!"

Arwen laughed, imagining Faramir and Éowyn splashing each other. "I bet you were! Your Daddy is very good at drenching people."

She nodded. "When are Mommy and Daddy coming home?"

"Not for a little while yet," she replied softly, holding her hands loosely around Annî's waist. "Are you missing them today? It is all right to miss them, chên nîn."

"I do," she agreed, "but I love you and Tirion, too!" She held her more tightly around the neck.

"I love you, too, Annî."

Letting the child hug her again as she laid her head on her shoulder, Arwen heard the sound of footsteps between the rows of rosebushes. She looked over and saw Captain Mennev exiting before the Fountain.

"There you are, my Lady; I have been looking everywhere for you," he said, though not sternly. Arwen's heart raced at the graveness on his face as he came nearer.

"Tiriel?" Annî asked, raising her head and dropping a hand onto her chest. "Your heart sounds funny." Arwen turned her eyes to her, giving her a smile.

"The Captain is here, and he startled me, too," she lied softly, rubbing her nose against Annî's. The little girl giggled and then crawled from her lap and Arwen stood to meet him. Her face grew serious as the little girl scampered around her feet. "Mennev, what is it?" Annî grabbed her hands and hung from them, swinging back and forth, and singing to herself.

"The King wishes to speak with you," he said, and she felt a tingle go through her.

"The King—?" she began and then looked at him oddly. "Where is he?"

"I will take you to him," he replied. Annî's singing grew louder as she danced about the elf's feet; no one was paying any attention to her at the moment. Mennev dropped his voice to a murmur and looked at her seriously. "He is in the Tower…and has received two messengers from Ithilien."

Arwen's heart rose into her throat and she stilled the little girl with her hands and voice, saying, "Annî, _Annî._ " The little girl stopped and looked up at her, but Arwen's eyes were still fixed on Mennev. "Lead on, Captain." She tugged Annî as she turned her gaze to her.

"Where are we going?" the little girl asked, and Arwen tried to smile at her, but it did not reach her eyes. She could not help it as worry coursed through her. She _reached_ for Aragorn, but only felt turmoil; now she was afraid.

"Annî, Tirion needs to see me. Can you get your parchment and charcoal and come with me to the Tower?"

"Yea! We get to see Tirion early today!"

"Yes, dear one. Now get your things and take my hand."

Annî scrambled to collect her things and then wrapped her hand in Arwen's, trotting along beside the elf as the two of them made their way toward Ecthelion.

* * *

As soon as they entered Ecthelion, she knew there was something dreadfully wrong. The councilmen stood about within the throne room where they generally did not gather, and the door to the adjoining chamber where they had been having their meeting was closed. Annî closed in tightly near her leg, her hand clasping Arwen's dress, nervous around so many strangers. Arwen slowed behind Mennev when she saw the men of the council who knew her best in deep conversation and she drew near to them.

"My Lady," greeted Noldore, and then he smiled and bowed to Annî. "Princess."

"What has happened, my Lord?"

Dintîr shook his head as Noldore responded. "We have not yet heard. The messengers arrived and the King took them with him in the chamber, and they have not yet emerged. We are waiting to hear, but I hope it is nothing. I cannot imagine why it would take so long."

"My Lady," Mennev said, stepping back to her, "please."

"Dintîr—"

"Of course," he replied, and he crouched beside Annî. "Princess, want to sit in your Father's chair?"

Her eyes widened with excitement, even though she now had her thumb in her mouth. She looked up into Arwen's face. "Tiriel, can I?" she asked around the digit.

Arwen smiled, released her hand, and smoothed her hair. "Of course! Go with Dintîr. I will be right back, all right? And then we will visit with Tirion." She nodded and took Dintîr's hand and he led her away. Arwen turned back to Noldore. "I am certain you will all know in moments what is going on. We will be back shortly; be patient," she added, touching his arm. He nodded.

"Of course, my Lady."

She followed Mennev as he led her to the adjoining chamber where he knocked three times. Hildanir opened the door and they both entered. The room was heavy with an ominous silence; she felt it as soon as she came inside, the door closing behind them. The two messengers, their clothing stained from dirt and the sweat of riding long hours on horseback, stood near the conference table, one of the men leaning heavily upon it. She drew nearer to them, her eyes on Aragorn's concerned face.

"—and then we rode from outside Henneth Annûn, taking every shortcut we knew to Osgiliath where we made the crossing; that was nearly two days past."

"So you have no word on Prince Faramir's condition?"

The man paled, and Arwen did the same at his words. "No, my Lord," he replied, frowning deeply. "The last we saw of him, he was being slung over horseback. He was sorely injured."

"He is in Henneth Annûn, then?"

"Yes," he agreed. "We were urged by Galen, Captain of our Guard, to ride here and announce what had happened." He tightened his fingers and looked very stressed. "We are worried for the Prince, my Lord."

"There is only one choice which will satisfy me," Aragorn replied and then continued, "You two should long have been sitting down. Take a seat now and let me speak with my Lady." He turned away from them for a moment and Arwen went to his side, her anxiety plain.

"My Lord, what has happened?" she asked, glancing at the messengers. "Faramir—"

"Has been gravely wounded," he said softly. "He and Legolas, it appears, were ambushed by a large group of men and elves of unknown number, but they left Faramir in the woods to die and Legolas was not found."

"God…" Arwen whispered, her jaw tightening. "Men and elves? Why would such a thing take place…and in Ithilien? This is awful. What of Éowyn and Enguina? Gimli?"

"The men say that the three of them were in Henneth Annûn when they discovered Dwimorisen had returned rider-less. They followed his trail and found the battle scene where Faramir was found. At the time, when they journeyed out, they had not found Legolas." He turned back to the two men. "Is it possible that Legolas was among those wounded there? Could he have been found after you were sent out?"

"It _is_ possible," stated the older man. "The Lady Enguina had found the Prince's horse, so he may have still been nearby." He shook his head. "Forgive me; I cannot answer you with any more information. I have none."

"No forgiveness is necessary. You have done your duty, and have ridden hard. You need to take some rest in the barracks, and then ride back to your posts when you are able." Arwen laid a hand on his arm, and he looked to her.

"So Legolas might be…"

"Even more terribly wounded than Faramir," he stated, "or worse. Though, I…I think not. Why leave Faramir alive? No, my thought is that there must have been some reason for them to be in Ithilien in the first place. If it was not to simply stir up trouble in Gondor, then we must assume their purpose had something to do with Legolas." He shook his head slowly. "There is nothing else to do but go to him; I can make no other decision."

"We must ride after them," she agreed. "We must be sure everyone is all right." She thought about Annî in the other room and then saw the look in his eye and she shook her head. "No, do not even think about refusing me. I am riding with you."

He _looked_ as though he would refuse her, but he gave her a nod. "I must address the Council and explain what is happening. Perhaps you could take Annî back to the House and begin preparing for the journey? And we will have to decide what we are going to do about her as well."

Worry crossed Arwen's face. "I will try to think of something."

* * *

It was the speed at which the elf was moving that was beginning to agitate Annî into a state of worried excitement. Her Tiriel had explained nothing, but even the little girl could tell that she was making preparations for a trip of some kind. She had left Annî in the living room playing on the floor by the hearth with her dolls, but she could see her walking back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom, saddlebags or other items that were necessary in hand.

Annî folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips, watching as Arwen paused in the doorway to the bedroom, her back to Annî as she rested her shoulder and then her head against the doorframe. This was a strange posture for the elf, and Annî had no idea what it meant. She got to her feet and went over to her, reaching up to tug on her dress.

"What's wrong, Tiriel?" she asked, her voice rising in child-like worry. She was beginning to assume that they were angry with her, that she was in trouble. "I didn't do anything wrong." The last was said softly, thoughtfully as Arwen turned towards her and as the child tried to think of how the day had gone so mad when they had done so very little together.

"Oh, Annî, this is not because of you," Arwen replied, shaking her head and crouching down before her. She brushed her fingers to Annî's cheek, thinking of what to tell her. "I…your Tirion and I have to go on a journey. It is very important."

"A trip?" she asked, frowning. "Where are you going?"

"To one of the lands surrounding Gondor," she said gently. Annî looked into her face, studying her. Arwen had to look away first.

"You're worried," Annî said softly. "Mommy has that look a lot when Daddy is late." She waited a second before she continued, saying, "Are they coming back to get me?"

Arwen was frustrated by the statement Aragorn had made to her; they had to have a plan for Annî. If they did not take her with them, who would she stay with? And when they arrived in Ithilien without her, what would Éowyn say? If she were Éowyn, she knew _exactly_ what she would say. There was no other choice, really; the child would _have_ to come with them.

She sighed and reached out her arms to the child. "Come here." Annî went to her and Arwen scooped her up, taking her to their bed, sitting her on it, and then sitting down beside her. "Annî, your Mother and Father are not coming here; we are going to them instead."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, chên nîn," she replied, stroking her hair. "We are going to pack your things as soon as I have finished packing for Tirion and myself."

"What can I bring?"

"Not very much," she admitted. "Brego and Asfaloth need to be able to move quickly, so we will not be packing very many things. Choose your favorite doll and a set of clothes or two, and that will have to be enough. We will be traveling quickly, so it will not take us too long to get where we are going."

"Afalof and Brego are coming, too?" she exclaimed. "Will I get to ride the _whole_ way there?"

"The whole way," Arwen confirmed.

"Why are we riding out there now? You're still worried. Is Mommy okay?"

"Your Mother is fine, Annî. It is…your Father has been…he has been hurt."

"Daddy?" she asked, looking at the elf seriously, and Arwen nodded.

"But he is going to be fine. Tirion is going to take care of him when we get there, and you will get to be with both of your parents much sooner than we all expected. I know that your Mother will be very happy to have you with her."

Annî looked sad. "Did he fall? Did he cut himself? Does he need a kiss from Mommy?"

Arwen stroked Annî's hair again, and she smiled at her words. "I am sure that he does, though he could probably use a kiss from _you_ even more. It is possible that he did not hurt himself; I think someone else may have caused it to happen."

" _Bad_ men!" Annî suddenly yelled, tears forming in her eyes as she brought her fist down against the comforter. "Bad men _hurt_ people! They made Daddy all covered with dirt! They made Mommy cry! They hurt you, too!"

Arwen's eyes filled with tears. "Yes, Annî, all of those things are true."

"I rember," she said. "Mommy and Daddy cried all the time, and you were sick! I was sad, too."

"But everything is all right now," Arwen whispered back sincerely. "I am well again, and your parents were happy, so everything is all right." She was surprised that all of what had happened since the explosion had stayed in the little girl's mind. She had hoped she would forget.

"But _you_ cried, too," she whispered, touching Arwen's face. "I rember. We were playing in the snow and then you were crying. But I hugged you, and then Tirion came and took you away."

Arwen stared at her; she did not remember Annî hugging her that night. All she remembered was crying, and Aragorn lifting her out of the snow and carrying her back to the House to be alone. She had not been ready to spend time with Annî that night. "You did," she said softly. "I am glad for your hugs." She smiled then, trying to ease the conversation away from her. "I am very happy to have them." Arwen heard the door click, and clearly, so had Annî. The little girl leapt from the bed and raced out of the bedroom, meeting Aragorn halfway to the kitchen.

"Oh, how is the fiery red-head this morning after her muffins?" he teased her, trying to keep things light, and Arwen could tell that he, too, had scooped her up into his arms and was holding her. He entered the room and saw her seated on the bed; instead of racing about to finish packing, he came and sat down beside her.

"Tirion, we are going on a journey," Annî said matter-of-factly. "And _you_ are going to take care of Daddy when we get there, because he needs a badage."

If Aragorn was surprised that Annî knew or that she was including herself in the journey, he did not let it show at all. "I am," he said softly, setting her in his lap. "How do you know so much, little one?"

"Tiriel told me everything," she said proud of herself. "And Brego and Afalof are coming, too!"

"The Council?" Arwen asked and he raised his eyes from Annî to look at her.

"They took the news that we were leaving better than I expected, though both Noldore _and_ Nardur were not pleased. However, they _are_ especially worried about Faramir, as they should be, and they allowed that we should ride to Ithilien, sending out a legion of troops to search and find Legolas." He paused and then sighed. "And then of course they expect us to return home almost immediately."

A scowl flashed across Arwen's face, and then she remembered the impressionable child seated on Aragorn's lap…and curbed her expression. "There is not a chance in—"

"I know."

"It would be faster to go ourselves."

"I did explain _that_ fully as well, but it is very possible that when we arrive in Ithilien we will find Legolas safe and sound. Then there may be no need for us to journey anywhere."

Arwen watched his face and then frowned. "I hope with all my heart that you are right…but my dreams have said otherwise." She sighed, her eyes sad. "I should have believed them from the first."

He reached out and stroked her face from cheek to chin. "There was nothing we could have done. Our riders met theirs just north of Osgiliath; they all returned together."

Arwen reached out and tugged Annî's hand. "Annî, why not go and gather those few things so I can pack them away? That would be very helpful." She leapt from Arwen's lap and danced from the room towards where she had been making her bed the last few days. In that moment, Arwen turned back to Aragorn. "Did the messengers say anything more about Faramir?" she asked worriedly.

"They only said he had multiple arrow wounds, and they worried he would become ill. He was unconscious when they found him, bloody, gravely wounded." A flash of worry crossed his face, and an ill feeling speared through Arwen's stomach. "We must leave before noon if we can and ride as fast as we may, even with Annî."

"Do you think she will be all right? Such a long journey for so small a babe."

He nodded. "She will be fine; you and I shall see to her, and Éowyn will be much calmer knowing her daughter is near."

Arwen frowned deeply. "I hate to think that she is so far along with Faramir so wounded. What she must be feeling!"

"Yes, she will be easier knowing Annî is safe with her."

Annî raced back into the room at top speed and ran into the edge of the bed, throwing the items into both of their laps. "I have my things!" she cried, waving her arms. "Here they are!"

"Annî, very good," Arwen said, finally laughing for the first time today while Aragorn smiled at her. "Let us pack these few things and then perhaps you can pick out two tunics for Tirion to take with him. What about your bear?"

"Can I bring my lamb instead?" She reached over behind Arwen and pulled a bedraggled-looking stuffed animal from behind her; it had, at one time, been white.

"Of course. Come and help Tirion get ready."

"Yes," Aragorn said as Annî turned, and he smiled at Arwen, "as it seems Tiriel has left me to ready myself."

"No she didn't!"

"Yes, she did."

"No she didn't! I _saw_ her packing your things!"

"No!"

Annî giggled and hurried over to the chest of drawers as Aragorn winked at Arwen, following her over to help her choose. They would be journeying towards Ithilien with all speed in little under an hour if they could manage it.


	14. Chapter 14

Gimli and Enguina had only camped for an hour or so, enough to let the horses graze and to gulp down some meager fare themselves. This was all the time they felt they could spare, even though they were tired and they assumed their mounts were as well from riding through the darkness and then all day long. But they had seemed rested and eager to hit the trail again; this had pleased both the elf and the dwarf, and they had made excellent time.

That is, they made excellent time until they became lost just before sunset. Somehow, the trail had completely disappeared and they had spent nearly two hours back-tracking and searching for it. They were near the outskirts of the mountains surrounding Mordor now, and the volcanic types of rock were disguising the trail. Moving at the pace they had been traveling, it had also been easy to lose the trail. After much disgust, and then desperate prayer and pleading to Ilúvatar done in both the silence of the heart and aloud, they had found the trail anew.

At the moment, they found themselves in the pitch black of a dark wood. The air was close and heavy, and the trees seemed to snatch at their clothes and cloaks as they rode along. Enguina could barely see anything, and she prayed for some of the clouds to dissipate that had clearly been forming towards the evening. They blocked all light from the moon and Enguina and Gimli had no other choice but to rely on the sight of their mounts to guide them through. They could only hope they were still on the trail.

"The air is so… _close_ in here, don't you think, lass?" asked Gimli, and then he muttered under his breath, "I don't think I've been more miserable in a wood since the first time I walked through Fangorn."

Just as he spoke, Enguina's sixth sense for minor danger kicked in and she thrust up her hand to block the low-hanging branch that could have knocked off her head. Lifting it, she ducked under it and dropped it behind her. About to reply to Gimli and warn him about the branch, another struck her in the head. She cursed aloud, reaching up to touch her forehead, wincing.

"Be careful, Gimli; the trees in here are getting closer, and this is no wide, well-used trail we are traveling." Her voice cut off at the end as she hissed when a tree branch cut her cheek.

"All right up there?" he called to her and she agreed it was fine. Then he chuckled at her and continued, "I _am_ quite a bit shorter than you, lass, but I'll watch out just the same. And I can't see how you can tell the trees are thick in here; I can't see _anything_ , not even my own hand a few inches from my face!"

Enguina tried to smile, even though she was still a bit worried about losing the trail. "That is how you can tell they are thick. You can no longer see the moon through the trees."

Gimli let out a snort. "I knew that!" he stated and she laughed. "Perhaps we _should_ light a torch, though. I know we said we didn't want to do that, but we don't know what to expect in these woods. There might be catamounts or bears, and we don't want to meet them in the dark unprepared."

"Perhaps that _is_ a good idea, Gimli," she replied quietly. "Only, be careful please."

"Well, first let me see if I can find the gear I need here…"

She smiled to herself as she listened to Gimli mutter to himself from behind her. Never, never ever in a life age did she think that she would be enjoying traveling with a dwarf! But she and Gimli were great companions, and she was growing as close to him as he and Legolas were to each other. There was no doubt that within a short time, she would love Gimli just as much as Legolas did. Oh, but that thought led her to thinking about how much she missed Legolas, and how worried she was and her heart hurt, so she tried to press the thought away.

Taking several minutes and several curses later, the dwarf finally lit the lantern and raised it up. "See?" he said, casting the light forward where Lómë was walking just in time for her to duck under another large branch. "This will be perfect for shedding a bit of light!"

Suddenly, Enguina thrust up her arms and cried out, Lómë dancing to the left of the trail, throwing his head. Gimli called out to her, but then he heard the flutter of wings and he cried out himself as something, or several somethings, slapped into the side of his head. He ducked towards Firgenwine's neck, lowering the lantern, as he saw Enguina doing much the same ahead of him. _Thousands_ of bats flapped over them, Firgenwine and Lómë dancing all over the trail, but were unable to plow forward with all of the rodents flying haphazardly. Enguina screamed as several became wound in her hair, and she had to drop the reins to free them so they were not clawing and scratching her neck and head.

"Gimli! Gimli, put it _out!_ " she cried, and no sooner had she began calling to him, he had the idea himself. He was discouraged from keeping out the lantern with such a mighty force of bats flying from the trees nearby. Then he heard her speaking to Lómë, trying to calm him, her soothing voice barely heard over the fluttering of wings.

Finally, after many minutes, the bats finished flying off and about them, the last two hitting Enguina in the back of the head. "Ugh," she muttered, rubbing her hands through her hair to ensure they had all left her hair. She heard Gimli grunting as he sat upright.

"Well…that was certainly fun, wasn't it?" he asked as Firgenwine drew closer to Lómë. He squinted to see the elf as she gingerly returned to sitting upright.

"I did not appreciate the bats," she replied, her voice shaking just a little. She shuddered and rubbed her arms. "I really hated that."

"Well, here we are!" he said with a laugh. "At least we made it through that alive and with only a few scratches. Bats are nasty creatures, but it's not them so much that bothers me," he admitted. "I don't much like dark forests; well, I don't think the fact that it is dark makes it any worse. I think I simply do not like forests!"

Enguina laughed at him and shook her head. "We have no choice in the matter, Gimli. We must continue to press onward if we are to save Legolas."

"I wouldn't have _that_ any other way," he sighed and urged Firgenwine forward into the trees and darkness once again. This time, Lómë followed. "We haven't rested in some time, and we're going to get tired very soon," Gimli added, frowning. "I don't know what else we can do aside from tying ourselves in the saddle."

Enguina grimly smiled at that image in her mind. "I am willing to go that far if we must. We lost so much time getting lost, and I do not think we should stop in this forest unless our lives depend on it."

"Maybe they will if we hang ourselves in the dark by a tree limb," Gimli grumbled, swiping the branches out of his way that still seemed to snatch at him. "Though you're right, Enguina; we've lost enough time already and there's no way that lot camped in here. It's probably not wise to stop." The crunching of leaves beneath the hooves of their horses sounded loudly in the utter darkness all around them. "I mean, this would be the perfect place for an ambush if I knew I had others trailing me."

"I do not believe they could possibly know we are coming, Gimli."

"Well," he said softly, "I'm not one who takes captives, but if I were, I'd have look-outs all along the way to make sure I wasn't being followed. Though, by the looks of Faramir, I suppose they'd have assumed he was going to die quickly and there would be no one to tell. Perhaps there _wouldn't_ be anyone watching for followers. Perhaps they expect no one to follow them."

"They would be very wrong," Enguina added. "But we most certainly cannot stop; it could mean the difference between life and death for Legolas." Her voice had softened. "We must assume they are going to kill him, after what they did to Faramir."

"I wish we were already upon them."

 _So do I, Gimli…so do I._

Over the next hour or so, the going through the woods was hard. There were branches at every turn that waited to overtake them, and the horses would spook at shadows their riders could not see. At one turn, Gimli was nearly thrown, and then Enguina was nearly swept from Lómë's back by a thick limb. They kept a tight rein on their horses, Enguina now out in front with a raised arm to prevent herself from being dragged from the saddle.

Suddenly, light flickered through the tree canopy above them, and Enguina grinned. "There is light, Gimli! Straight ahead; do you see it?"

"Finally!" cried Gimli, groaning with frustration. "Let's get out into the light!"

They exited the forest and stood on the edge of a dismal scene. They were in a completely uncertain area; neither the dwarf nor the elf had ever been this far Northeast, so near the Black Land. They had traveled out of Ithilien, but they had no idea of this, for they had no idea where the boundary for that land lay. The moon shed some light on the shrubs that now appeared in the area before them, and they were relieved to see they had left that dark patch of woods behind them. The woods seemed so out of place when they looked back that it seemed it had been planted there to turn them away from following Legolas' captors. Enguina sighed softly, bringing Lómë to a halt, for she was sore and tired. Looking at the stretch of land before them, her heart fluttered and pained; she was already losing hope.

"Will we ever catch them, Gimli?" she murmured, and Gimli was surprised by the amount of despair in her voice. She had encouraged him through the woods, and now, when his heart felt lighter simply by being out of them, she seemed to despair over the long road ahead of them. He reached out and touched her arm with a gentleness seldom seen from any dwarf. When she turned her head towards him, her eyes were misty.

"We can't give up hope, Enguina," he stated with compassion. "There'll be many trials and days of riding ahead of us, but don't doubt that we'll catch these evil men! If there's anything I've learned from journeying with Legolas and Aragorn, it is that we have to keep our faith alive. The moment when things seem at their worst, something good always comes."

"That…has not generally been my experience," she replied quietly.

He frowned at her. "Well, we're going to look at things from a positive outlook. We have followed the trail fairly well so far, and we've made it out of the woods. These are both very positive."

"But we do not seem to be any closer to finding Legolas."

"We will. Eventually, Enguina, all things come together for good, understand? Take my word for it. Don't worry so much, and don't be too afraid."

"Because I am with you?" she offered with a smile.

"Because we've got each other," he stated. "We'll find him, lass." Enguina nodded, a knot in her throat that she was unable to speak around. "Let's ride for as long as we can, shall we?"

Lómë and Firgenwine began walking together again, and Enguina thanked Ilúvatar for the presence of Gimli. She could not imagine how dismal she would be without his encouragement.

* * *

Morning had come far too early for Annî as she lay fast asleep against Arwen's back, strapped tight to the elf through a make-shift sling with a long strap of fabric. She had been in awe the first hours of the ride yesterday, exclaiming at everything and enjoying the company of Aragorn and Arwen. After some time, however, the ride became grueling. Aragorn had warned her that they would be riding quickly; she soon found out that he had not been teasing her. Unused to so many hours in the saddle, Annî had grown _very_ uncomfortable _very_ quickly, though she had been thoroughly amazed at the speed with which they traveled. Arwen and Aragorn, putting their heads together, devised a way of travel that would normally be used for infants, but it was a necessity now.

Arwen could not believe that Annî was still asleep against her as Asfaloth loped along, his hooves thudding rhythmically against the ground. The sound was soothing to her heart, the rhythm perfect for her thoughts which centered on the missing Legolas and the wounded Faramir. They were moving as quickly as they could. Thankfully, the moon had just begun changing from full, so she and Aragorn had been able to ride late into the evening before stopping to camp. It was not yet dawn, and they had set out early to waste no time. Arwen was beginning to recognize familiar sights as they began to draw near to Henneth Annûn.

She glanced over and caught Aragorn's eye. He smiled at her, but she wore a frown; she knew he was trying to encourage her. "I am worried," she said to him, shaking her head. "I woke this morning with trouble in my mind."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Are you sure that was not because Annî nearly fell asleep on your head last night?"

She gave him a withering look. "No, it is because of _them_. Something draws near, Aragorn; this is not as simple as it seems. Yes, Faramir is wounded and Legolas is missing, but I feel…I feel there is something else that is gnawing away at me, pressing down on me."

It was his turn to frown. Again, he knew far too much about Elven premonitions to refute them. "Yet, you are still unsure who they focus on."

She nodded, sighing, frustrated. "I only know there is trouble elsewhere…something stirring, moving in the shadows. I cannot explain it." She glanced back at him. "Forgive me; I cannot stop thinking about them."

"Neither can I," he replied, and she watched his gaze drift toward her back.

She finally smiled. "Is she still asleep?"

"For now. I feel badly for her; I know this journey is difficult, but we had no other choice. There was no way we could have left her in Minas Tirith."

"No, and I know she is having fun as well, but this is the first time she has been on horseback for so long, and moving so quickly. Though, there is no way to prepare for such riding."

He reached out and touched her arm lightly. "And you? How are you doing?"

"Beloved, are you trying to say that I am unfit?" She gave him a little smirk, and he knew she was teasing him.

"Would I ever say such a thing about you?" he asked. "I was asking because you have not ridden for so many miles in so long. You have not been riding like this for some time, and you have been recovering as well. How do you feel?"

"Rested, actually, even though we did not stop for very long," she said, looking ahead. "How many more leagues have we to run?"

"It will not be long now," Aragorn replied. "We are riding hard; we should reach Henneth Annûn before nightfall."

She nodded. She was ready to ride hard and fast; her worry would take care of that. It was Annî she thought of when it came to the long ride. It would be several hours yet before she was awake for Aragorn had bundled the girl tightly against her back. She glanced back to Aragorn as he looked to the trail ahead.

"Aragorn…" she asked, and he turned back to her.

"What is it, Arwen?"

"I am afraid we will not reach Faramir in time," she said a bit more softly.

"Of course we will," he replied.

She continued a bit sheepishly, "I also think that when we arrive, we will find ourselves quite on our own. I think Gimli and Enguina…well, I have a feeling that they might already be hunting for Legolas if he has not already been found."

Aragorn sighed, shaking his head. "I suspected as much. We will see when we arrive, I suppose. I hope we do not end up tracking all three of them instead of just Legolas."

She kept her eyes focused on his. She had not had the privilege of traveling like this with him before; he had not been in Ithilien since chasing down Calendur, and before that three years, and before _that_ not since before they had become engaged…yet, he remembered every turn to Henneth Annûn, and he knew exactly where he was traveling.

She was, to say the least, impressed and even a bit in awe of him, and even as worried as she was, she could not help but take notice. He was so strong; he had _always_ been strong. She knew he had ridden for days to reach her just months ago; she had touched his rein-scarred hands. He would move heaven and earth…he _would_. Just to be with him, racing to Faramir, searching for Legolas, she had less doubt, more confidence. And when he looked in her eyes…

"Is everything all right?" he asked her.

"I believe it will be," she replied, and she found that as the words left her mouth she felt quite certain it would be.

He was a Hunter. He would find Legolas. And she would be at his side to help him.

* * *

The sun was almost setting as Galen stood just inside the chamber where Faramir lay motionless on the cot they had prepared. He pulled his knuckles, which he hardly ever did unless he was nervous, which he was very much right now. All was silent in the room, except for the sound of breathing. Finally, after two days without rest and at constant vigil, Galen had convinced the Princess of Ithilien to take sleep. She had forced them to set the mattress beside her husband so that she could remain near him; she would not leave his side.

There was nothing that the men who had been trying to heal him had been able to do. He had been steadily declining in health for the past three days, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The Princess—Éowyn, he thought, as she had told him to call her—had been at his side every moment, watching him begin to fade. He had not woken in several hours, and his skin was growing paler as the moments passed; he looked almost like a ghost. His injuries had been more severe than anyone had realized; even though the Healer had stopped the bleeding of his wounds, he had internal injuries that were far worse than anything they could see. There was, literally, nothing that could be done. As Galen stared at his face, he wished that they had found him dead; at least that way he would not have suffered, and he would not have inflicted this long goodbye on his wife.

He was distracted by the sudden movement of Éowyn waking, her shoulders stiff and tense as she sat up on the cot, one arm wrapped around her womb as she slid her feet to the floor. Leaning down towards Faramir, she reached out with her right hand and stroked his face.

"Love," he heard her whisper, "your face is so cold."

"My Lady," Galen said from the entryway, "you have not been asleep two hours. You need rest." His voice was quiet, so it was quite easy for her to ignore him completely. She moved the strands of hair from Faramir's face and ran her thumb gently along his eyebrow, looking carefully at the bruising around his eyes.

He looked even worse than he had when she had gone to sleep. He was so motionless, her heart began to race and her throat tightened. "Faramir?" Of course, there was no response, and she struggled to catch her breath. " _Faramir_?" she asked again. The alarm in her voice made Galen straighten and move immediately towards them.

She dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his hand in her left and cupping his cheek with the other. His hands were like ice, and they terrified her. She remembered, then, staring down into her Uncle's lifeless eyes, his face going cold, his gloved hand stroking her face and her breath caught in her throat, tears flooding her eyes.

"No, Faramir…no," she gasped, her nails digging into his hand as she clung to him.

Galen reached out and touched her shoulder. "My Lady," he whispered, "you have to let him go." He had not meant the words to come out that way, but it needed to be said. The Prince was dying; he might already be dead.

Éowyn yanked ferociously away from him, throwing herself down on Faramir, laying her head against his chest, pressing her face to his throat. Even as weak as he was, as tired as his body clearly was of living, his heart had not yet given out; she felt his pulse strongly through her head, and she lost it, curling her fingers into his hair and crying.

"Husband, do not leave me," she wept. "Please, Eru, be merciful! Not Faramir, not Faramir! Not now! Eru, do not take him! _I am not ready_!"

Galen stepped back from her; she needed to grieve, and he felt her pain most keenly.

Suddenly, Tandaarin was at his elbow. "Captain."

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Riders, my Lord," he replied. "They were spotted nearly a mile off."

He turned to him immediately. "The Lady and Gimli? Coming from the North?"

"No, riders from the South," he said, shaking his head. "From Gondor."

"Ours?" he said, leading the way from the room and following the cavern downwards.

"I do not know, Captain, but they certainly did not stumble upon us in the coming darkness. I came straight to you. Perhaps they bring word?"

Galen sighed, and replied grimly, "Pray, Tandaarin, they bring more than word."

* * *

Only moments after they had reached Henneth Annûn, Aragorn knew. When there was no elf and dwarf to meet him, only groups of Rangers, it was very obvious that Arwen's worry that they had already departed had been confirmed and that they would probably receive no updated news about Legolas. He dismounted and reached up toward Arwen to take Annî from her before she dismounted herself.

"Where's Mommy?" the little girl asked immediately. For the past two hours she had ridden in front of Arwen.

"Shh," Arwen said softly, "we will find her in moments." Handing her down to Aragorn, she gave him a guilty look. "I tried to tell you—"

"I know," he replied, lowering Annî down. "It is fine; _they_ will be fine. By the time—"

"Valar be praised, you have come!" a voice cried from behind them and Arwen stopped mid-dismount as Galen came rushing up to them. "Thank the heavens, my Lord!"

"Daddy! Where's my Daddy?" asked Annî, and Arwen swung the rest of the way down and picked Annî up into her arms as Aragorn turned to the Ranger.

"Galen, what has been happening? The Rangers you sent told us—"

"We were not expecting you to come so quickly!" he exclaimed. "The Prince's need is dire; he is failing even as we speak."

"Take us to him," Arwen said as Annî wrapped her arm around her neck, her thumb in her mouth.

The man behind Galen stepped forward. "Tandaarin, my Lord and Ladies," he said, "we will see to your horses."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," replied Aragorn as Galen began to stride away.

"I will brief you on what we know on the way."

Aragorn shoved passed Galen upon hearing Éowyn's sobs, and he entered the room nearly five strides ahead of the man, his anxiety over Faramir taking over. Arwen was two steps behind him, her eyes immediately settling on the woman hunched over him. They could hear her voice, whispering pleading words.

" _Faramir, please stay with me…Ilúvatar, do not take him…do not take him_ …" As Aragorn drew near, he could see one of her hands clutching Faramir's and the other incessantly stroking his face, over and over her hand drew down his cheek. The man was so pale that Aragorn's breath caught—he was a corpse already.

"Mommy! _Mommy!_ " Annî struggled so much that Arwen had to put her down; at the sound of her daughter's voice, Éowyn was shaken out of her shock and horror at the possibility of her husband's death and she stumbled into a turn, just in time to open an arm before her daughter ran into her full-tilt.

"Annî?" she croaked in disbelief, her voice harsh from exhaustion and sobs.

" _Daddy_ …" the little girl moaned, stretching a hand towards her father, beginning to cry outright; now there was real danger. The man lay still, unmoving on the mat; that terrified her.

"Ar…" Éowyn began, the disbelief becoming complete astonishment as Aragorn reached her side, but her voice cut off and she could not speak.

" _Daddy hurt! Hurt_!" Annî was crying loudly, and Aragorn ran his hand through Éowyn's hair, a caress that served to soothe a bit of her anxiety.

"Éowyn, let me see to him. Go with Arwen; rest. He is going to be all right." Her relief, her exhaustion, was such that she nearly swooned on the floor, but Arwen was there taking her to her feet as Aragorn slipped easily into her place. "Galen," Aragorn said seriously, beginning to roll up his sleeves, "I need hot water, the Healer, and these wounds need to be bathed again immediately." Annî and Éowyn's cries were echoing in the cavern, and he turned to look over his shoulder. "Arwen—"

The elf drew Éowyn and the crying child out of the entryway, taking her into the hall. She turned to the guard nearby. "Please, my Lord, is there somewhere the Lady can rest?"

"No, no," Éowyn whispered, her face half-buried beneath Arwen's shoulder, Annî crushed between them, "I cannot leave him. I cannot!"

She slipped a hand up into Éowyn's hair. "Hush now," she said in her melodic, soothing way, "Aragorn is with him. He will be all right." Her eyes went back to the Ranger. "My Lord?"

"Of course, my Lady." The room was not far where he took her, but there was a place where Arwen could sit Éowyn down, and within moments, they were alone, the woman's face pressed to her neck.

"Mommy, Mommy…" the little girl whispered.

"I am so glad you are here, little one," Éowyn replied, her voice broken by tears.

"What happened to Daddy?"

"Daddy—" Her voice cut off in a sob and she clutched her little girl more tightly. "Daddy was hurt, but…Tirion is here now, and everything is going to be all right, Annî." Arwen swallowed hard, stroking Éowyn's hair over and over; she prayed with all her might that the woman was right, that Aragorn could save him.

The stress of traveling and seeing her father so injured put Annî to sleep in the arms of her mother in a very short period of time. Arwen waited until she thought Éowyn was in control of herself before she began to speak, but the woman got there first.

"I…I should be in there with him. Let me—"

"No, you are all right, and you have Annî. Let Aragorn work; he needs quiet, Éowyn." She spoke quietly, but firmly. "You need to think about the child within you as well as Faramir. You look as though you have been up for days; you are completely exhausted." She lowered one hand on Éowyn's womb.

"How in heaven's name are you here?" Éowyn whispered back. "I am so thankful, so grateful, but I…I cannot understand, Arwen. What are you doing here?"

"The Rangers who had come from Ithilien arrived in Minas Tirith not even two days ago," Arwen replied. "Aragorn and I could not ignore the fact that Faramir had been injured, you alone, Legolas missing, _and_ the possibility of Enguina rushing off to save him. We had to do something, and we could not very well leave Annî alone in Minas Tirith."

"It must have been a terrible journey," she muttered, and Arwen smiled, stroking her hair again.

"No, it was quite the opposite. Annî has been so exhausted from the riding that she has been asleep most of the time. At the start, she found it great fun and asked us thousands of questions about everything she saw. When we were getting close to Henneth Annûn, I think she was just grateful to be finished with the ride, and to be reunited with you."

For the first time since Faramir had fallen asleep that first night, Éowyn smiled. "Has she been good for you? Has my little one been good?"

Arwen nodded. "She is a dear, Éowyn, and she has been having a great time with me. We have been traveling to the Anduin and roaming about the City, and everywhere we go, no one fails to mention how sweet she is or how beautiful. You and Faramir are raising a very precious child." She blushed a little bit. "You have no idea how very lucky you are."

She heard Éowyn sigh, and the woman released Annî with one hand and touched Arwen's face. "When I look at you, Arwen," she whispered, "I am reminded of how lucky I am. It is difficult to forget." There was quite a pause after her words, and she began to regret them almost as soon as they had left her mouth. "Forgive me; I did not mean to hurt you—"

"You are right, of course," she said softly. "How could you forget?" But turning the subject away from herself was the first thing she was going to do. "Éowyn, you must tell me what has happened. I fear that the story may have changed or that there are new developments that have happened since I have heard the story. Please, tell the tale in full."

"I will try," Éowyn said softly. "Legolas and Faramir traveled alone in search of new land for our homes; that morning, I was exhausted, and Enguina had a horrible nightmare the evening before, so she agreed to stay behind with Gimli and me. We have no idea what happened in between those hours, only that Faramir and Legolas had been attacked—by a large party of men and elves. I say large because there were many dead, and there were many that rode away.

"We waited for _hours,_ Arwen, but they never returned. It was Dwimor who returned here to Henneth Annûn long after nightfall, rider-less and in rough condition. We were terrified; so we headed out with a search party and made out to find them. When we did…" she shook her head and returned it to Arwen's shoulder, sighing, "Faramir was in a terrible state. Glosbrethil was tangled in briars and could not get loose, so Enguina set to free him. By the time all of this had happened, we realized that Legolas had been taken; he was nowhere to be found.

"I needed to return to Henneth Annûn with Faramir, so Enguina and Gimli stayed to continue searching. The following morning when I woke from a very brief sleep, I was given news from Tandaarin that the pair of them had ridden off to follow the trail of the kidnappers." She shook her head. "I knew it was going to happen, so I was not very surprised, but there was nothing I could do. I would have only slowed them down, and I needed to watch over Faramir." She bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes. "Arwen, if you had not come—"

She tugged her even closer, laying her head on the woman's. "But we are here, and Aragorn is at his side. There is nothing that, in time, Aragorn cannot heal. Faramir's heart is beating still; he has too much to live for."

"Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for bringing Annî here to me."

"Of course." She kissed the top of her head. "Now, I am going to return to Aragorn and see if there is anything I can do to make things easier for him. _You_ are going to rest on this bed we are sitting on, and then I will return and wake you as soon as Aragorn has finished what he can."

"Oh, no, Arwen…I could not sleep. Not while Faramir is—"

"He is going to be _fine_ ," Arwen stressed. "He will be a little worse for wear for a while, but he is going to be all right. Now, come…lay down here."

Éowyn did not have much of a choice but to listen to her, so within a few moments, the woman was lying down with her child in her arms and her head on a pillow. Arwen covered her with a blanket and stroked her hair, looking down on her with a smile.

"I will stay with you until you are sleeping," she said, and Éowyn smiled at her.

"Thank Eru for the blessing of your peace, Arwen." She felt her eyes closing, but then reopened them to look at her again. "I almost forgot; Galen discovered an elf that was alive at the scene of the attack. He is here, being kept prisoner; he was badly wounded as well, but I have not spoken with him, nor has anyone else. Faramir was so ill."

Arwen shook her head. "Do not worry; hopefully there is much he can tell us about the attack and its purpose. I will find out. In the meantime, you should sleep. Do not worry about anything now, Éowyn. Everything will be all right."

"Of course it will now," she replied sleepily, touching Arwen's face. "Both of you are here."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Thank you so much to all my reviewers! To answer wickedgreene13's question: yes I am a Christian (even though some pretty terrible things happen to people in my stories-God is there)! I think it is important for all people to have a belief system and I firmly believe that all of these characters would have, especially when they all put stock in Elbereth and the Valar and the One, Iluvatar, who created them all; particularly the Elves. So therefore, their God is not quite ours, as Tolkien stated, but is similar except he is one person, not a triune God. :O) Anyway, that might help those of you who were wondering about the religious vibe my stories give off! As always, thanks for reviewing and asking questions, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

* * *

Aragorn sat back on his heels from Faramir's motionless body, looking more tired than Arwen had ever seen him. He was weaving back and forth, trying to steady himself, and she knelt behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and pressing him back against her to support him.

"You are tired, my Lord," she whispered, and he laid his head back against her shoulder.

"There…is no time," he replied, but she could see his hands shaking in their exhaustion. This long ride, this strain to save Faramir…had it been too much?

"You need to rest," she said, " _now_. Lie down here."

"Arwen—"

"There will be no discussion." Her answer was short, and he could not fight her. With help from her, she laid him down on the bed that had been placed for Éowyn, sitting there beside him and resting a hand upon his face.

"An hour," he whispered, his exhaustion plain, "no more." She ignored him, refusing to respond.

"How is Faramir?" she asked as his eyes closed at her touch.

"Healing… _slowly_ ," he replied softly. "There is nothing more I can do for him at the moment. He will heal, but it will be slow…he was close, Arwen. Éowyn was right to have feared for him. Had we been an hour later…" He shook his head. "Thank Ilúvatar we did not rest as we intended." He opened his eyes again and met hers. "Éowyn is resting?"

"With Annî. She said that there were many dead where they found Faramir. Enguina and Gimli were with them, but have not returned. Clearly, they set out after those who took him. Glosbrethil and Dwimorisen were also wounded; I was thinking perhaps that I would go down and visit with them at some point, though I think you would learn more than me." She gave him a smile that he returned.

"I will speak with them."

"Éowyn also said that there was an elf who was discovered alive though wounded as well. He is being held captive. We should certainly look into that before we make any decisions about which direction we are headed in as well."

"Why attack Faramir and Legolas?" he asked rhetorically. "It does not appear to make sense, but they must have some motive for taking Legolas and not Faramir. He would be quite a prize as well, unless they did not know who he was, or his importance."

"The Rangers had said there were men and elves," she added. "More trouble from Mirkwood?"

Aragorn gave a sigh. "What is going on in Thranduil's woods these days? I thought Eryn Lasgalen was a peaceful place now. I am going to have a talk with Thranduil when he comes to Minas Tirith for the wedding." Arwen was silent for a moment, and he covered the hand that was on his cheek. "Worry not, Arwen. Everything is going to be fine."

"I said that to Éowyn several moments ago. You want to know what she said?"

"No…she told you that because we are here, everything is going to be fine."

"She must have told you this before."

"She believes…and she is probably right. We will find Enguina and Gimli, and then find Legolas." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I am feeling better; I think I should talk with this elf they took as prisoner."

She looked at him sternly. "Aragorn, you look as though you have aged fifty years in the last few hours. This is a time for resting…not running off to interrogate someone."

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I feel as though I _have_ aged fifty years."

"Perhaps you should _sleep_ for fifty years," she teased, and stroked his cheek again. "But I know I will be lucky to get an hour out of you."

"Yes, you will be lucky if I take that much time. I am not certain we have the time to waste, Arwen. If Faramir was this badly wounded, there is no certainty that they have not injured Legolas just as severely. Never mind what is happening to Enguina and Gimli right now; where they might be lost."

She gave him a little smirk. "I know Enguina does not have much of a sense of direction, but when it comes to Legolas, things may go much better. Gimli is a decent tracker, is he not? Though…I am worried about them," she said. "You need to rest."

"Arwen—"

"Let me make this decision for you: I will go down to the stable and check on Brethil and Dwimor; after you have spoken with the elf who has been imprisoned, you will meet me there and talk with the horses, and then we will make our departure. What do you think of that?"

He eyed her knowingly. "I think you are going to let me sleep far too long."

"I will have Galen wake you after an hour, all right?" she promised, her fingers brushing his ear. "Please, Aragorn…you look like…like a…." His lips thinned and she laughed softly. "Like a grumpy dwarf! Do not be so grumpy."

"I do _not_ look like a dwarf," he said, and then his eyes began to close again. "But, I will do as you say…for an hour only." She bent and kissed his brow.

"I will meet you in the stable, beloved. Sleep well." She stood and moved to pass Galen. "Captain—"

"In one hour, my Lady," he said softly. "I will wake him."

She nodded. "Thank you, my Lord." And then she was gone.

Galen stood watch over Faramir a few moments more and was startled when the King swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat upright. Sighing, he stood up and turned towards the door, to find Galen looking at him.

"Uh…my Lord, are you not supposed to be resting?"

"There is too much to do, Galen," he replied, and gave him a knowing look, "and do not waste time questioning me. Where is this elf for me to question? Take me to him."

"Of…of course, my Lord," came Galen's reply. Who was he to get involved between the King and his spouse?

* * *

The caverns were lit by torches, so when Aragorn entered into the holding area for the elf it was rather dark. Aragorn's night vision was not as keen as an elf's so he could not make out his face, but he could see him lying against the wall. Galen had told him on the way that the elf had not tried to escape and had not put up a fight in the least, but he was also silent, and the lack of words was irritating to him. Aragorn thought that perhaps the elf's wounds might have been too terrible for him to move, but the elf raised his head as soon as the man entered, and though he could not completely make out his face he stepped closer to him.

Just as Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, the elf opened his, surprise evident in his voice. "Well! I certainly _never_ expected to see you ever again. Our paths simply were not meant to cross again."

Aragorn peered at him. "You have me at a disadvantage, then, sir, as I simply do not recognize you. I come to speak with you about the taking of the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. If you tell me all you know, if you tell me whatever you can about the men who have taken him, the courts of Minas Tirith shall go easier on your sentence."

The elf leaned out into the light so that his face was settled on by the torch's fire. "I had heard _stories_ of you, Aragorn, but I never thought to meet you face to face again. Certainly not as the King of Gondor." Recognition sparked across Aragorn's face, but he crossed his arms, giving the elf a wary look.

"Soronar?" he questioned, and the elf nodded. "What in the name of…" He shook his head and crouched down before the elf. "What are you doing here? You were in Lothlórien last I knew of you, and now you are out with a troop of elves kidnapping your own? What is this all about?" He frowned deeply at him, just as Soronar frowned back. "I would have never thought you would turn on your own people."

"I…I did not," he replied softly. "I will explain what I can. Aragorn, so much has happened since you left Lórien. You know; you were _there_ the night he died."

"The night—" Aragorn began, and then realized to whom he was referring. "Haldir."

"Yes," he answered painfully. "Haldir. When we received word, we were all immensely grieved. The Lord made me Captain, but I could hardly bear the title, or look upon his widow without grief filling my heart. And even with that burden, I might have remained, had the orcs not taken everything from me that I held dear." His eyes were dark with sorrow, and Aragorn closed his eyes.

"Not your son."

"Sindasir and my son were near the Celebrant when they attacked. He died defending her, and she…" he shook his head as Aragorn reached out and clasped his shoulder.

"I am so sorry," he said quietly. He could see her in his mind, golden-haired, softly smiling. She had always been a woman of quiet beauty with a sensitive nature. Arwen would also be grieved to know of her death.

"Without them, life became unbearable," he said. "I resigned, unable to say goodbye to Haldir's wife; so destroyed was she by Haldir's passing that she could find no comfort. She was a shell of who she once was; no matter what we did, she was never to be the same. To look in her eyes, to see my grief mirrored there…it was something I could not bear. With the Lord and Lady already having departed, I set out alone." He frowned and sighed. "I decided I would hunt the orcs, and find the men who were aiding and harboring them…to honor Haldir's death, to destroy his killers.

"And that is what led me here. The elves and men I was traveling with told me we were hunting orcs," he snorted. "When I came upon the man and Legolas, I was shocked, appalled. I knew the Prince had nothing to do with Haldir's death, so I tried to stop them, and was attacked in return, and here I am. The rest of the story from there, I assume you already know."

"You had no hand in it," Aragorn said softly, so full of relief he would never have been able to explain it. Soronar smiled, for the first time in a very _long_ time.

"It has been so long since someone cared about my decisions, my choices," the elf said. "Thank you for worrying for me."

"I will get you out of this prison," Aragorn replied. "You do not belong here. Once you have healed, you may be free to come and go as you wish."

He sighed. "There are more orcs to hunt. Perhaps I shall make my way back to the Misty Mountains."

"I cannot remain long, but I hope that you shall stay here long enough for us to meet upon our journey home," he added. "Soronar, how long have you been traveling with these elves? Do you know them well? What is their motive for taking Legolas?"

"I will tell you what I can about them, though I clearly have been deceived by them through the time I have been with them. I know now that they are searching for a place to call their own, and I suppose that Thranduil's kingdom was a bit tempting for them."

"Thranduil's—they intend to ransom _Legolas_?" Aragorn said astounded. "Are they mad?"

"Some of them, yes," Soronar answered honestly. "They desire to rule themselves, and they think that King Thranduil will give them a piece of Old Mirkwood. I believe they intend to threaten and hold Legolas until he does."

"They do not know Thranduil, do they?"

Soronar sneered. "Obviously not. I did try to tell them that, once I discovered their plot. Vilyath was the Elven woman who told me the tale. I have no reason to doubt she was telling the truth."

"Vilyath…that name sounds familiar."

"Yes, you would know her at least in name. She is of Rivendell, where you grew up. Several of the others are from Rivendell as well, some from Lórien before your time there, and some from Old Mirkwood before it became the Greenwood again. But the King will not give up his people, his land. Not even for his own son."

"They are headed Northwest then, to Eryn Lasgalen, I assume."

"I would think to agree, but I could not say."

"They will not get far," Aragorn said firmly, grimly. "Arwen and I will overtake them. They will not even have a chance to petition the King, or get anywhere near him, before Legolas is found."

"Arwen is here as well?" he said with surprise, but then smiled. "I am fortunate indeed, if I am to see the Evenstar even for a moment before you depart. And if you are to track them, there are a few things you must know. You are a fine tracker, Aragorn; one of the best, which made many elves envious of your skill when you were in Lórien. There are two dangers that you _must_ be wary of. First, you must watch for the Messenger, for if they think someone is tracking them, they always send out their beast first."

"'The Messenger?' Who is it?"

"You do not wish to meet it," Soronar said with a frown. "Though I never saw him completely, he visited Vilyath several times in the night. When he did come, my skin crawled, so much so that I could never watch his arrival. The others said that he was a great beast, much larger than any horse, with great fangs and a mouth wide enough to grasp a human. Where he came from, I know not, but he is quick to deliver information between our group and our leader."

"Your leader does not ride with you? That must mean they would be taking Legolas to him."

"That would be fair to say," Soronar agreed. "He stays a safe distance from the orcs we have been hunting. I have been there a few times to meet him; it is not known on any map, north of Mordor and east of Eryn Lasgalen, but not as far north as the Lonely Mountain. Londeglai is its name."

"Who is this leader, Soronar? You say he is searching for land, a place to make a home?"

"From the words of Vilyath, yes. I never knew that about him; I never knew that was his intention. You knew him once, Aragorn, though you might not recognize him now, as he has been scarred by something he chooses not to speak of. He is an elf, long ago banished from Lórien, for something…" he shook his head. "I knew nothing of it then, and I know nothing of it now. I only remember trying to find him some forty years ago. He was a friend of Haldir's at the time, but something must have happened that the Lord had instructed us to hunt him. We did not ask questions."

Aragorn felt as though a spear had been driven through his spine. "A friend of Haldir's that was banished? Forty years ago?"

"Yes, you might remember him."

"B… _Bragolaur_ ," Aragorn whispered, his tongue getting trapped around the word.

"I see that you do," Soronar nodded, and Aragorn felt his stomach plummet through the floor of the cave. He felt physically sick, closing his eyes. "He…is a bit _unstable_. The few times I met him, he seemed a bit out of it. I never had much to do with him, as I was already busy hunting orcs. But you most certainly will recognize him by the scars on his face. They even tell stories of him."

"He will… _pay_ for his crimes," Aragorn muttered grimly. "Soronar, what else can you tell me? My urgency is complete if what you say about this elf being Bragolaur is true. The stain of his existence is much darker than you could understand."

"I do not think there is anything more I know that would be useful; nor would a trail drawn out to Londeglai be any easier for an excellent tracker such as yourself to find aside from following theirs."

Aragorn reached forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Soronar, how I wish we had met under different circumstances, but I must away. I will instruct Galen to release you and to provide you with a horse so that you may travel where you please. I am afraid that Arwen will not have the pleasure of your company, nor you, hers; at least not before our return."

"That is a shame," he replied, "but I understand your need for hurry. I wish you both happiness, and success and speed in your quest, Aragorn. A final word: it would be good for you to remember that you should not underestimate the power and madness of one man or his army."

"I will not be overconfident," he said as he got to his feet.

In surprise to both of them, the door burst open and Galen entered, Aragorn spinning to look at him. "My Lord," he said urgently, "you must come at once!"

"Is it Faramir?" he asked, thinking that it could not be, of course, he had known that Faramir was slowly recovering, out of danger.

"No, my Lord, it is the Queen! She was attacked in the stable—"

" _What?_ " he asked, unable to wrap his mind around the words coming from the man's mouth. "Is she—"

"I do not know, Lord," he replied worriedly. "Word came from down below—"

"Go, Aragorn," Soronar added quickly. "There will be another time for us to talk."

"I will see you are set free," he said, barely able to think of anything but Arwen. "Namárië!" The man disappeared from sight almost immediately, breaking to a jog through the caverns with Galen close on his heels.

"There are two dead Rangers in the stable, they said," Galen told him quickly. "I cannot believe our own men would do such a thing."

"They were able to tell you _that_ ," Aragorn growled a bit irrationally, "but they were unable to communicate if my wife was hurt?"

"I…" he drifted off, guiltily. "Forgive me, my Lord; that _was_ more important. I am sorry."

"Yes," he said, still irritated, "it _was_." He tried to move on, tried not to worry as he _reached_ to Arwen, but it was _very_ difficult. He felt her; at least she was safe. "The two Rangers, were they our men, or were they spies for those who have taken Legolas?"

Galen shook his head as they jogged along. "I am afraid I do not know, my Lord."

As they rounded the corner to make their way down through the caverns, Aragorn could hear the whinnies of the horses echoing through the walls. They were anxious, and their anxiety made them travel with even more speed, as Aragorn maneuvered people out of his way to reach the stable faster.

* * *

 _ **Moments before…**_

Arwen entered the stable entirely on her own, the Ranger who had shown her the way leaving her to visit the horses by herself. Asfaloth whinnied immediately, sensing her before the others, and soon they were all greeting her. Upon seeing Dwimor and Brethil, she was appalled at how wounded they had been in the fight. Carefully, she inspected each puncture and scrape and made sure they had fresh hay and water. Clearly they had been taken care of and were still under care, but it upset her that the two of them were trapped when Faramir was so ill and Legolas was still missing.

"Do not worry, my boys," she said softly, stroking Brethil's forehead. "Enguina and Gimli are already hunting, and Aragorn and I will be soon."

"My Lady, are you on your own down here?" asked a voice from the aisle. She lifted her head to see one of the Rangers standing in the center, and she slipped out from under the rope keeping Brethil in his stall.

"Yes, my Lord," she said softly. "I enjoy keeping time with the horses. May I help you?"

"Clearly, they enjoy your attention," the man responded, ignoring her question. "The two of them have been seriously wounded and though they have received much care, it is going to take some time before they recover."

"Do you know when the Prince was taken?" she asked. "How long have the Lady Enguina and Lord Gimli been traveling after them?"

"A few days," he said softly, turning his head sideways to look at her. "What is your intention, my Lady? Do you and the King expect to be traveling shortly?"

She glanced away down the barn aisle at a snort from Asfaloth, who was watching her with interest. "I would expect we will be. Prince Faramir is on the mend, thank Ilúvatar; we will be following the tracks as soon as possible. The King is speaking with the captive from the attack—"

"The elf?" he asked, and there was some surprise in his eyes as he spoke. That was interesting to Arwen. "He is speaking to the elf?"

"As far as I understood, the captive was an elf, yes," she replied, and then she changed the subject, unsure why she was suddenly so uncomfortable. "And what is your name, my Lord? Have you been in this post long?"

He was clearly distracted as he answered, trying to smile at her, "Kel. My name is Kel. Let me show you around the rest of the stable, shall I? This is your first visit to Henneth Annûn?"

"Yes," she replied, and turned to walk with him away from the horses, moving slowly as their conversation continued for several minutes. They continued to walk down the aisle, heading towards the open air and the moonlight. "Henneth Annûn is quite beautiful, and it is a lovely evening. It would be nice to have time to enjoy it."

"Oh, I am sure you could find some time tonight," he replied as they neared the end of the aisle where there was a saddled mount. Kel glanced over at her looking at her in the moonlight. The moon was not full any longer, but it would still be beautiful for a few nights. He watched her, admired her, and it was pretty obvious what he was doing. "Why do we not step outside for a moment?" he asked, his voice soft and suddenly just off her shoulder. "I am sure the view can be better seen—"

"My husband is meeting me inside the stable," she said, staring up into the night sky, a bit unnerved by his attention. "It would be good for me to prepare the horses as we will be leaving shortly—"

Suddenly, she found herself pressed back against the entrance to the cave; it was such a sudden move that it momentarily stunned her long enough for him to press his face towards her ear. "What is your _hurry_ , Highness?" he murmured, holding her tightly to the wall. "The night is young, and there is certainly enough time to accomplish anything that you might… _desire_. I have some ideas."

Astounded by his boldness, she shoved her hands forward, hitting his chest and pushing him back from her; even a foot was enough to get a breath. "What do you think you are doing?" she snapped as his hands came up defensively, to ward against danger from her. "Get your hands _off_ me."

"All right, my Lady, all right," he whispered.

Arwen pushed off from the wall, flashing a glare at him as she glanced into the barn. "Do _not_ touch me again," she said fiercely, and then she turned her back on him. "My husband would—"

Clearly, turning her back on him was a mistake. She gasped as she felt his hands on her hips as he tugged her backwards into his body, sliding an arm through both of hers in the crooks of her elbows, catching her tightly. "Taking the Queen captive might be worth it," he slithered in her ear, and she jerked forward, lashing out with her nails and trying to yank her arms free. "Ah," he hissed, wincing as she clawed him through his tunic, "you _are_ a feisty one. I should have known that." He reached up and took her face in his hand; she snapped at him and he snorted.

She felt the impact of the cave against the side of her head before she _ever_ saw it coming. She hit so hard her teeth rattled; stunned for a moment, he leaned her against it and pressed in close to her neck. "We will have no screaming, no noises; no, no, none of that. You come quietly or I will have to be sure you and your husband do not follow us. I do not want to have to _hurt_ you—"

She wrenched forward suddenly, breaking out with one arm and tearing at his face and shoving him back from her as she made it around the edge of the cavern. "Brego!" she called, just before a crushing arm fell across her chest and dragged her against him, one of his hands reaching down and unbuckling her belt; she knew what he was doing, causing her to lose her sword. The big bay reared and whinnied loudly, flinging his feet at the wood of his stall as Asfaloth reared and struck out with his front feet as well.

In the meantime, Arwen lashed out, attacking him with her booted feet, striking his shins and ankles with crippling force, enough that with more leverage she might have broken both of his legs. Her nails dug into his arms and sides with a fury she seldom used. He cried out in her ear and then his leg finally gave out; he swung sideways and threw all his weight forward, crashing down on top of her. For the second time, Arwen's head hit solid stone, the air crushing from her lungs. Everything before her eyes went dark, but she fought against the unconsciousness, the dulling of her senses; she seemed to be underwater. He rolled her onto her back, pressing himself down onto her, snapping something that she could not understand and she could hear through the fog the snapping of wood, the pounding of hooves.

The world spun, but she opened her eyes, and had to close them again immediately feeling as though she was going to heave. He had her wrists in a hand above her head, holding them together; she could still hear the horses screaming…her sword belt slipped, and she heard it hit stone. She finally filled her lungs with air and felt him try and drag her to her feet.

"Get up before someone comes," he whispered, and she could almost see the sneer on his face. Despite her fatigue, the dizziness, and the fact that her head might roll from her shoulders at any moment, she yanked on her hands, and he yanked back against her—a tug of war on her wrists.

Anger flooded her, and he caught a glimpse of her face, but she brought a leg up so fast between them that he had no time to react. Lodging her knee in his groin she slammed him hard and shoved him from her, but her left wrist made a nasty snapping noise as he was forced to release her. He rolled across the stone and into a haystack, and she rolled onto her knees, cursing from the pain, her eyes smarting with tears as wave after wave of dizziness swamped her. She weaved back and forth as the world seemed to do the same, trying to use her good hand to steady herself. Sitting back on her feet, she carefully looked around for Hadhafang, but it was a bit out of her reach as a whinny of alarm came to her ears.

There was a crash, and she whirled about, a spasm of pain shooting through her upper arm as she just avoided being run through, rolling off to the side and then to her feet again; blood splashed the floor from the five-inch slice in her arm. She had nothing with which to defend herself.

" _My Lady_!"

The cry came from near the doorway; finally, someone had come down to see what all the commotion was about. Kel rounded on the man immediately, forgetting about immobilizing her for the moment and now so worried about his own life that he attacked the man, lunging across the space as the Ranger lunged for him, a furious exchange of blows taking place.

The door of Brego's stall exploded outward and Kel fell back, trying to escape his flying hooves. Rearing, the horse shot forward towards the man, clubbing him on the left shoulder. The Ranger slashed out at Kel, catching him across the stomach and spraying blood to the floor. Kel whirled away and then he was on Arwen, lashing out with his hand and catching her in the throat as she threw her head back to avoid the strike to the face. She dropped to her knees, unable to breathe, and Kel swung back with his sword, stabbing the man through the chest. The Ranger fell with a gurgle to the stones just as Asfaloth broke free from his stall. Brego was rearing again and whinnying maniacally.

She fell forward onto her hand…and her fingers struck Hadhafang's sheath. Drawing the sword, she slashed it around, just in time to catch his blow. She held him off long enough to get her feet under her, and then he yanked back, trying to strike at her again. It did not work, and she rolled away, pain firing through her wrist as she came to her feet a foot away.

With a sword in her hand, even dizzy and in pain, the man must have known she was a serious adversary, along with the two horses that were bearing down on him in the aisle. They battled for only a few more moments before Kel knocked her backwards into the oncoming Asfaloth, and bolted for the entryway of the cave. Snatching the reins of the sorrel tied there, he leapt into the saddle and wheeled his horse away from them.

She had no time; she could either let him get away, or stop him. She heard men yelling at the top of her lungs as if in far distance behind her, but instead of waiting, she reacted. Snatching her bow from the saddle, she knocked an arrow and took aim, wetness pouring down her face. Her wrist fired pain through her arm; holding the bow was nearly incomprehensible but somehow she managed, the arrow was loosed and she heard it make the sickening thud of a true shot. Dead, Kel fell from the back of the horse as it raced off into the woods.

The adrenaline was gone; her hands were shaking so badly, _she_ was shaking so badly she could barely stand upright; she was going to be sick on the stones right there. Turning, dropping the bow, she somehow tangled the fingers of her right hand in Asfaloth's mane. She leaned heavily against him, her face pressed to his neck, her whole world slowly revolving as the dim voices grew louder. The Rangers were coming, and then they were beside her, but she barely registered them.

"Send for the King!"

"My Lady! _My Lady_!"

"Is she all right?"

"She is wounded!"

" _Send for the King_!"

"Dear Eru, her _head_!"

"My Lady, can you hear me?"

 _Of course I can hear you…please, not so loud_ …Her ears were ringing, her head was spinning, and if she opened her mouth to speak she was definitely going to retch. Her knees were shaking at that point, but she could not will herself to let Asfaloth go; she heard Brego whinny loudly, stamping the ground as the Rangers tried to lead him into a stall. She felt hands on her as they sat her down on a nearby hay bale, holding her upright, still trying to get her to respond to them. Arwen had no idea how much time had passed, but before she heard the yelling of the Rangers to signify the King had arrived, she felt the brush of his spirit against hers.

"My Lord—"

"Stand back, Tandaarin," Aragorn stated, and the irritation in his voice was clear, "let her _breathe_." He knelt down before Arwen, but she did not open her eyes yet; she could not, but she could hear Asfaloth and Brego whuffling to him. She knew what they would say, and sure enough, he was listening to them. His warm hands enveloped hers, but he snapped his head back to look at Brego. " _What?_ " The horse whinnied and scratched the stone with his foot. The man turned back to study Arwen, growling low in his throat, "I need a blanket."

Within seconds, one was handed to him, and he wrapped it around her upper body; she was shaking, and he did not think that was because she was cold. He lifted a hand and pressed it to her bloodied face, taking a seat beside her on the hay.

"My Lord," came Galen's voice from behind him, and he took the cloth offered him and carefully held it against the wound on her head. He could hear her breathing shallowly, and it worried him. She could feel his anxiety for her, but she was so focused on trying to collect herself, her scattered thoughts, that for a moment, she forgot even where she was. _Oh…Ithilien…Enguina…Legolas…right…_

"Galen," Aragorn said, glancing up at him, "Brego and Asfaloth are all right?"

"The men said they were fine, just loose in the barn," he replied. "How is she?"

"I will see to her," Aragorn said. "If you could bring some water, that would be helpful."

"It will be done, my Lord," he said and stood up, narrowing his eyes at the men around. "You heard the King, back to your posts! And we need to send out a rider to catch Kel's runaway horse and bring back his body. "

" _Us_ …" Arwen whispered, and Aragorn's head snapped up. They were the first words she had spoken, and even Galen turned back towards her. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to stop the spinning. "Kel said _us_ …there was more than one of them here."

Galen turned and shouted to his men. "Search for any more _traitors_ ," he snapped, "even if we must question every man in this place! And let us bear out Jarnet with honor; he fought valiantly."

It took them only a few minutes to be left, if not alone then with minimal supervision, with the water that Galen had supplied, and Aragorn laid his hand against Arwen's face with gentle pressure. "Arwen…look at me," he said, and he heard her take in a ragged breath before she attempted to force her unfocused eyes on his. They were cloudy, and she blinked to take away the blur that she found was all she could see. He did not even attempt to hide his worry from her. "You…hit your head."

"You are Aragorn…" she muttered softly, "and I am Arwen." He chuckled softly. "I know who we are." In her blindness, she saw him take his hand away from her face and that it was covered with blood. "I thought I was sweating," she added, her voice sounding distant, fighting another wave of nausea. She wanted to lay her head in her hands and hold it, but they were shaking worse than the rest of her, her head and wrist pained something awful. "My _head_ …"

"You hit it twice?" he asked softly, wiping her face and the blood with a cool, wet rag. "Can you see clearly?"

"Not… _clearly_ ," she said, fighting the nausea again, "but I can see." She was quiet for a moment while he worked. "Are we alone?" she asked softly.

"Yes, we are alone," he replied. "You are pale; are you feeling ill?"

"Very," she whispered. "I feel as though a troll leapt onto my head and spun me around thirty times in both directions."

"You worry me." He slipped the blanket from her shoulder so he could see the slice in her arm, but his eyes caught on the torn tunic she wore. "You…fought him? You shot him."

"Yes," she replied, trying to collect thoughts that seemed as scattered as the seeds of a dandelion. "He was fleeing us…he was hoping they would not be discovered…Legolas's captors…that we would not follow them…he hoped to keep us behind."

"Keep talking, Arwen," he added, noticing that at the end of her sentence her voice drifted away. "You cannot sleep just yet, but you are definitely going to sleep. What else did you hurt? Does anything else ache?"

"My wrist," Arwen replied as steadily as she could, but the tremor in her voice could not deter his worry, "and my _head_." She felt him press his strength into her. "Stop that," she said immediately, "you have not even rested an hour. You cannot heal me."

He felt the bones of her wrist, discovering no break, but definite swelling. He wrapped the rest of the wet cloth over it as he finished tying a bandage around her arm. As much as he hated to admit it, there was no way he _could_ heal her. Brego whinnied, and he looked back at Arwen's tunic. "You are right, of course…I have not rested, but now you must—"

" _I_ must?" she asked, and she still had the wherewithal to sound a bit miffed. "You were collapsing on the bed beside Faramir, and _I_ need to lie down?"

"Arwen, if I could be more amused about this situation, I would laugh at the simple fact that you are speaking as though you have consumed a ridiculous amount of drink. However, this only serves to worry me, as it means you may have been seriously injured. And Brego tells me—"

"I am all right," she interrupted, but she was rapidly blinking her eyes to clear them again.

Aragorn was silent for a moment, and then he whispered the question, "Did he touch you?"

"No," she replied after another moment of silence between them. "He was trying to take me with him; he did not want us following him…" she added faintly.

"You are safe now, and he is most definitely dead by your hand. I am sorry I let you come down here alone; I should have thought they might leave someone in hiding to prevent others from following them."

"Please, stop blaming yourself," she muttered in reply. "You could not have known, and it is irritating to listen to you belittle yourself."

Aragorn smirked at her words as he leaned her gently into him, but finding her heart pounding in her chest sobered him quickly; the man, Kel, had frightened her more than she wanted to communicate to him. He held her close, thinking of another woman who had not been so strong, had not been so lucky, and was now hunting the man who had hurt her. He found himself nearly physically ill at the thought of what might happen if Bragolaur found her first. _Ilúvatar, save us all…_

She sighed softly and then gave a bitter laugh. "I really may lose my dinner," she whispered with a groan. Gently, he rubbed her back and stroked her hair.

"Take deep breaths and breathe slowly," he instructed her.

"My head is like a drum; I can barely think straight."

"You need to close your eyes for a while."

"So do you."

"So do I," he admitted. "What say you to this: we will sit here together for an hour to gather our strength, and then we will have to ride."

"Faramir is still doing well?" she asked him, and he nodded.

"As far as I know, but we will look in on them both before we leave." He kissed her forehead as she leaned into him. "Close your eyes and try to sleep. I will follow you."

It only took her a few seconds; she was exhausted from the encounter and her head was pounding. He felt her fall heavily asleep, and then he lifted his head to look into the faces of the horses, now calmly munching on their hay. Brego stamped his foot again.

"I know," he said. "It is weighing on her, but she said she is all right, and I am not about to fight with her over it. We have too little time already, and there is much to be done."

"{Going to be well, she is?}" asked Asfaloth worriedly.

"We will be riding out sooner than we should for two people in our condition, but…what choice have we, friends? I cannot allow Legolas to be held captive." He looked to Brethil and Dwimor. "What can you tell me that I have not already heard?"

"{The attack, terrible,}" nickered Dwimor sadly.

"Did they intend to seriously wound Faramir? What about Legolas?"

"{He was wounded, this I know,}" replied Brethil. "{He went down fighting; terrified we were, in pain.}" He looked guilty. "{Nothing I could do.}"

Brego snorted loudly. "{That is the Prince! Fight till death!}"

"Peace, Brego. You did everything you could," Aragorn said. "There was nothing more you could do; to remain would have meant your deaths. These men are murderers, traitors—"

"{Prince of White Tower?}" asked Dwimor.

"He is going to be all right, though it will take him some time to recover."

"{Worried, I am,}" Brethil said, sighing. "{About the Prince of Green Leaves.}"

"{Home we will bring him,}" Asfaloth interrupted.

"{Easy for you the path to find. The dwarf and the elf—}" Brethil snorted, "{For them, things not so easy.}"

"I am worried as well," Aragorn said softly. "What I have heard of this elf is _not_ good, and his history is not good either. I know where they are going, and though I do not know much of the place, it does not sound as though it will be a comfort. Soronar, the elf that was found, gave me the location of this Londeglai, and I am afraid Enguina and Gimli shall reach it far before we do, which shall mean that they shall catch up to them before we do…which can mean nothing good." All of the horses tossed their heads as one in agreement. "I know of no shortened ways to get there."

"{That far north, I have never been,}" Brego stated.

"{But carry you swiftly until we reach them we will,}" added Asfaloth.

"{Swift they are, and cunning. Not know they are upon you until it is too late,}" Dwimor told him softly. "{Safeguard Queen of White Tower.}"

Brego snorted darkly. "{Quicker had I been, death I would have brought him.}"

"{Death he deserved, laying hands on my Queen of White Tower,}" Asfaloth insisted.

"You are right, of course, and I will safeguard her," Aragorn added, resting his cheek against Arwen's head and feeling exhaustion setting in. He needed desperately to rest, but he was still worried for her. "Perhaps I should not wake her at all; her vision is not well, and neither is she. Perhaps she should not ride and remain here with Éowyn and Faramir."

Brego whinnied, peeling back his upper lip in laughter. "{After ten years, I wonder what you have learned of her! More angry you would make her than a thousand Wargs if leave her you did. Ride after you anyway, or kill you upon your return she would…and _let_ her, I would.}"

Aragorn grinned as Brego stuffed his nose into his hay pile, and he asked, "Is there anything else?"

The horses were silent for a moment. "{From the east, a storm brews,}" Dwimor added, and then he, too, began munching his hay. Asfaloth tossed his head.

"{Watch this storm we must.}"

Aragorn nodded, and he wanted to hear whatever else his friends had to say…

…but he was just so tired that his eyes were closed and he was out in half another moment.


	16. Chapter 16

_Pain_. It flashed through Legolas and tore through his sides as though he had been running for months. Never had his arms been pulled quite this tight and tied behind his back; his shoulders ached with the strain. Never had his head felt as though it was going to explode from his neck; never had he simply lain where he had been thrown, in such a condition as he was in, and not even tried to find an escape. He felt damp, but he could not tell if it was because he was soaked through, or because he was covered in his own blood. He heard nothing that meant it was raining.

 _Guin_. Oh…Ilúvatar, where was she? What was she doing? What was she thinking? How long had it been since he had gone missing? What _day_ was it? How long would it be until he saw her again? His insides ached with the need to be near her, to hold her, to see her. How he wished he were there to tell her that he was going to be all right, that he would comfort her…was she panicked right now? Was Gimli with her? Did they find Faramir? Was he still alive?

 _Where…where am I?_ Well…at least his thoughts were beginning to form actual sentences now. That was a good sign; he was coming to. He cracked his eyes just slightly, just enough to let a bit of light in; he could see shrub-grass fields in the light of the campfire and the moon. It did not look as any area of any map he had ever seen, but that could still be Ithilien, as there were parts of Middle-Earth he had never visited. He could, quite literally, be anywhere…and he had never been so frustrated or felt more helpless.

He heard a lot of noise suddenly going on off to his right, and then saw feet near his own legs. Then, of course, a voice—the same one he had heard when being called down from the tree. _Lovely_.

"Vilyath!" called the laughing voice. "Pretty boy's decided to join us in the land of the living!" A moment of quiet, and then a boot ferociously kicked him to the right side of his back, and pain seared through him. He grunted aloud, heard the snicker, and then waited until the man crossed in front of him. With a speed he had no knowledge of mustering, he swiftly and suddenly swept the legs out from him, dropping him instantly to the ground on his butt. He tried to roll, but that was stopped immediately, and shouts were heard just before Legolas's feet were tied together. He struggled of course, but it was fruitless, and he was subdued by another rough beating to his back by a few well-placed kicks. After this, he lay still, falling quiet even as his eyes blazed.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," growled the voice in his ear, the same man he had knocked over.

" _Enough,_ Dragsúl; stand back. Let _me_ speak with him."

The she-elf appeared in front of him, her eyes unreadable, but a little smile was on her face. He did not like it; it made her look sinister. Though…he supposed she was. "That was not very _wise_ , _Prince_ ," she said, stressing the final word mockingly. The men behind him, nearest the fire, laughed; he knew he was near the fire as he could feel it on his back. "Struggle, fight…" she shrugged, "why? It is utterly futile, and will only make them hurt you more." When he did not respond, her little smile broadened. "You know…you are as handsome as I have heard tell."

Ignoring her words, but focused on her, he decided now would be as good a time as any to find out what in all the Hells of Morgoth was going on. "Who…who are you?" he forced out, his throat as cracked and dry as he expected it to be.

"Some water, Omarom," she said to the elf who was standing nearby. He nodded and went to retrieve some to help Legolas's parched throat. As he was drinking, Vilyath continued with a wry smile. "As an exception to every other man but one, I might let _you_ call me 'melnur nîn' if you wanted," she said, and Omarom rolled his eyes while Dragsúl snickered. There were a bunch of hoots and hollers from the men near the fire.

He stared at her and then said, a bit nastily, "What if I call you 'crebanengwa?'" She raised her eyebrows as several of the men made low noises in surprise.

"That was a bit uncalled for. You do not seem to understand that I control your entire life at this moment. Let me explain." She glanced up. "Dragsúl?"

"It would be my genuine pleasure." The beating came quickly, but the pain did not leave nearly as soon as he would have liked. He coughed a few times, feeling his blood trickling down his face, his eyes betraying his exhaustion.

"That _is_ a bit better, though I do not much like seeing you in pain, Prince. You need a bit less fire, although…the tiredness in your expression does take away from your attractiveness. Do try and behave though, as Dragsúl would be more than happy to thrash you every moment you are awake, and that would not be very pleasant for you."

"Who _are_ you? What do you want with me?" Legolas forced out.

"I am quite certain there is no harm in telling you as you are not about to escape anywhere," she said with a bit of a smile. "After a short detour, we will be headed for a visit with your dear old dad." Legolas stared at her and she actually laughed. "I am certain he will be quite happy to see you."

"I would like it better if he was dead," Dragsúl said nastily from behind him.

"Ah, but then we would have nothing to negotiate with, would we?" she added, rolling her eyes.

"Negotiate? Are you mad?" the elf questioned in confusion. "What are you negotiating for, exactly? What could you possibly hope to gain from my father?"

"Stop asking questions," Omarom said. "Vilyath will tell you what she chooses." Dragsúl kicked Legolas again, this time catching his wrists under his boot and stomping down. The elf _felt_ the crack more than he heard it, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. _Oh…wait until I feel a little stronger. I will kill you all…death to every last one of you. Can you see it coming towards you? Wait…just wait…_

"We intend to hold you until King Thranduil is convinced that he needs to give us a small part of his land. Beside all of that, Eryn Lasgalen has grown from Mirkwood and encompassed all the land to the South that was once of Sauron. It would be, to be honest, quite a beautiful place for us to live."

"You must be out of your mind," Legolas groaned, rolling his eyes as he rested his head upon the ground, trying to keep his mind off the pain he was in. "First, if anything my Father has not _gained_ land, he has given it away. Most of the southern end of what you term as "Mirkwood" now is known as East Lórien. _And_ you cannot tell me that there is no unclaimed land in Middle-Earth where you and your band of miscreants cannot abide without taking land from my father."

"We are not out to simply claim land. The Master's plan is for Mirkwood, and so Mirkwood it shall be; Mirkwood was a part of us once, before we became outcasts."

"Make a new home for yourselves. Why live in the past?" he asked her softly, and she reached forward to pinch his cheek.

"If you were not so cute, I would slap you across the face for even _attempting_ to make me believe something other than what I believe. But I would prefer to _see_ your face, not mess it up." She sighed. "It is, however, important that you not try to escape. Remember what will happen?" After another swift kick to the ribs, he coughed in pain and looked up rather helplessly.

"I…remember, oddly enough," he muttered. "You must know…you must know that my father will give you _nothing_. He does not bargain, nor would he allow anyone to stand and threaten his people or their way of life. He will not forfeit Eryn Lasgalen, not for anything…not even for me. You must understand this basic truth."

Vilyath leaned closer to him, looking down in a motherly sort of way. "Legolas, Legolas…do you know nothing about Kings and Queens, about parents who love their children? Those in the highest positions have the most to lose!" She laughed. "Your father will be here in an instant to treat with my Master when he discovers the truth. You think him so high and mighty, so noble? He will be groveling for your life before long. If you ever become a father, you will discover the principle for yourself. Of course, that is providing that you make it out of here alive.

"If you behave, if you are calm and respectful and you do as we say, Dragsúl shall not have to beat you within an inch of your life. I will not warn you again against keeping your mouth shut."

"He will not come," Legolas said, unable to stop himself, "but if for some strange reason that would be completely beyond me he _does_ come here…you had better retreat in any matter that seems best to you and as quickly as you may. Your warriors could never face a legion of my father's guard…not even on their best days."

She laughed. "The sight of you bruised, battered, and broken might be an especially good deterrent. However…we shall see, Prince. We shall see." Vilyath straightened as she rose to her feet, glancing at Omarom. "Make sure he is tied up good and tight; there will be no escaping for this elf…not now, and not ever. And Dragsúl?"

"Yes, Vilyath?"

"Teach our guest a thing or two about keeping his mouth shut if he opens it again, will you? But please, be a bit gentler. He needs to last at least another week or so."

"My pleasure," he said, and Legolas heard him crack his knuckles.

It was bound to be a _very_ long night…however much longer he would last.

* * *

Lómë was thundering along the landscape; brush, trees, and grass torn up beneath him. Enguina had permitted him to choose his pace, and since he had chosen this one, she had let him run. The black could feel her anxiety for Legolas and he channeled it into speed as he continued along. Urgency was her main guide, and the land around her was a blur; she remembered none of it.

"Enguina!" The cry came to her ears as if from far away, and then she remembered that she was not traveling alone. She fought her own will about slowing so the dwarf could catch up, and then reined in Lómë until Firgenwine drew up alongside him.

"What is it, Gimli?"

"You _know_ that Firgenwine can't keep up!" he growled, frowning at her as she frowned at him. "Slow down, lass, or you're gonna leave me behind!"

"We have to hurry, Gimli! We are gaining on them; I can feel it!" she called to him.

"I can't keep up with you," he continued. "I'm not the best rider, you know."

"You have said that several times," Enguina pointed out, frustrated. "But the only way for you to learn is to let Firgenwine do her job. Give her a chance to run and stop holding her back!" He glared at her, and she stared back at him for a few moments before she realized just how uncomfortable she felt at the words she had just spoken. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes and looked at him again, slowing Lómë down to a trot just as Firgenwine broke back. "Gimli…I am so sorry."

He snorted…and then sighed. "I feel as though I'm going to fall right off onto the ground. And aside from that I just feel that I…that…well…"

The dwarf looked very uncomfortable for a few moments, and she looked closely at him. "What is the matter, Gimli?" she asked softly.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, but she was not about to let him escape.

"Gimli?"

"I just can't do this. I'm slowing you down; we're not going to reach him fast enough. You should've just gone alone and maybe we'd have a chance of finding him in time before—"

"Stop there!" she cried, covering her ears and then picking up her reins again. "I cannot even listen to this! First, we will find him in plenty of time before _anything_ happens. I cannot do this alone, Gimli. I would never have gotten _this_ far."

"You could," he insisted. "I really think I'm just holding you back."

" _I_ really think you are very wrong," she said, taking on his gruff tone. "Gimli, we are gaining on them. It is nearly dusk; their horses are tired and ours are not and they have probably stopped to make camp." She looked up, but then sighed. "There is a storm brewing on the horizon; do you see it ahead?" Gimli's eyes looked forward and he frowned.

"No, lass, I can't say that I see it, but I can smell it." His frown deepened. "It's going to get pretty rough out on this plain, and with lightning, we might want to make our way under some tree cover. At least until the thunderstorm has passed."

Enguina heard Lómë snort, and she nodded. "It is well on its way. They have probably already stopped to seek shelter, but perhaps we can gain on them even more if we wait until it is almost upon us. We might be able to close the gap." She nodded towards the distant thunderheads. "I only hope the rain will not wash away every trace of them."

Suddenly, she looked sharply from his eyes and over his shoulder. The dwarf's head whipped around to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing there. "What?" he asked. "What are you seeing with those elf eyes that I'm not seeing?" He scanned the nearby brush and scraggly trees.

"I thought—" she began, staring hard into the distance, and then she shook her head. "Something is watching us, but I cannot tell where or what…I am not even sure if it means us harm." She turned back to him. "We are to journey on, Gimli?"

"You're right about catching up a bit on them," he agreed. "And I'm sorry that I despaired. I just…I feel a bit useless sometimes," he admitted, "and I don't like it. It's almost as though my effort isn't enough.

Enguina looked at him with sympathy. "I know how that feels," she said softly.

* * *

Another camp brought about a similar situation for Legolas, and though they did not know it, Enguina had been right. The storm had brought the band of tired travelers to a grinding halt inside a cave at an attempt to gain some cover from the rain pouring down in great sheets. Vilyath stood near the entrance, gazing out and sighing. There were numerous problems with the rain, not the least being the need to stop; the most pressing issue was the Prince.

"With this rain," she muttered, "we will never reach Londeglai." Already, she knew that the elf was growing weaker, even by the day, and she feared that if they did not reach their destination soon, there might not be anything left to bargain with. Behind her, there was a cough, a thumping noise, and then a sharp gasp of pain.

"Keep your mouth shut," she heard Dragsúl snap, but the elf coughed again.

"Ah," he whispered, and she could hear the pain in his voice, "there is nothing I can do to silence it." There was a brief scuffle, another quick intake of breath, and then she heard Legolas cough once more and mutter, "Do what you will."

"Dragsúl!" Vilyath called and she heard him walk over to her without turning around. The man stepped up to her position on the rock face and looked out with her into the darkness.

"What is it?" he asked, staring angrily out at the rain.

"At least we are dry, which is more than you could say for any other creature out there in this deluge," she growled, and then maneuvered herself to look him full in the face. "You must stop kicking him," she stated, but her voice was hushed.

He frowned deeply at her. "I was enjoying myself. Any particular reason why I should end it?"

She gave him a look that showed him she was barely tolerating the question. "We need him _alive_ , Dragsúl, and he is ill enough. This weather is not doing us any favors; this is the second time we have had to take shelter."

"You told me to—"

"I have changed my mind."

He shrugged. "I suppose I was only finding it mildly enjoyable anyway," he replied.

"Mmm," she muttered, and she heard the elf cough behind her again. She glanced over her shoulder, and then left Dragsúl standing at the entrance, making her way to where Legolas lay on the stone. She crouched down in front of him and looked into his face. He was certainly becoming paler, and it was obvious he was growing ill. The elf's eyes flickered open for a second, as though he was trying to get a look of who was going to hit him next without them knowing that he was checking. Instead, when he saw it was her, he continued to stare at her, eyeing her features with apparent practice.

"What do you want?" he dared to ask, even after all of the times she had told him to remain silent. His voice was scratchy, but demanded an answer. She shook her head.

"Are you ill, Prince?" she asked him, her voice softer than it had ever been when she had spoken to him before. He continued to stare at her with no change of expression.

 _Should_ he say anything? What difference would it make? Would they allow him medicine, to take care of his wounds? Unlikely; so what would be the purpose in voicing his concerns? He already knew he was feverish; his hip and shoulder wounds were paining him in such a way that he knew they _had_ to be infected…this would be a waste of his breath.

"I am not well," he said flatly, and she realized that he was an elf seldom accustomed to admitting weakness. She looked into his eyes and then raised her head to Omarom who stood near the back of their small shelter, many of the men and elves at his feet on their sleeping mats.

"Omarom, will you bring the Prince some water?" she caught Legolas staring at her, surprise all over his face. "Do not look so surprised," she added hastily, "I need you alive when we get there,"

He continued to stare as the elf returned with the water and helped him drink. "Thank you," he said softly, giving a sigh, "that is very kind of you." His voice was drawn and tired, and he was exhausted, but he could not sleep. He had been unable to find rest for more than a few minutes at a time, and he was having strange dreams. They were sometimes about Aragorn and Arwen fighting something unseen, humorous things about Gimli, but they were mostly about Enguina…and dark things, hidden from his mind that kept waking him for no reason. When he woke, there would be a hollow hole in his chest, a sickening doubt, as though something horrible was about to happen…not that he already was not in very deep trouble. Yet, there were unknowns: how was Faramir? Were Enguina and Gimli riding after him as he was lying here drinking? Would Aragorn be far behind? Part of him prayed that no one would come; too much danger…did he want Enguina involved in this? Their wedding was in a month…he could have groaned aloud.

"Are you still awake?" He blinked his eyes at Vilyath's words and looked at her.

"More water?" asked Omarom, but Legolas shook his head, coughing a bit. No, if he drank anymore he might retch, and that was the last thing he needed. He suddenly wondered if there was some sort of drug in the water…but then he realized that he could have cared less. What would be the use of poisoning him? And if it were a drug that would make him sleep, he would not refuse it at this moment.

Vilyath watched Omarom walk away, sighing. "If this incessant rain ever ends," she grumbled, "we would shortly be in Londeglai."

"What…what is that place?"

"It is where we are to meet the Master," she replied, realizing she had spoken out loud the first time. She shrugged. "It is not on any map, if that is what you are asking." She gave him a wry smile. "If you are hoping to be found, your friends will not find Londeglai."

For the first time in days, Legolas actually smiled. "You do not know my friends very well, Vilyath. Not very well at all."

She let that go for a moment. "What were you thinking about before when you went silent for so long? Your father?"

"No," he whispered, "someone else." He moved on quickly; he was not about to speak of Guin to her. "Who is this 'Master' you continue to mention?"

"You will meet him soon enough," she appeared irritated, suddenly unwilling to answer his questions. "Stop asking so many things. You should be resting now."

He blinked slowly; he wished he _could_ be resting. Vilyath began to speak again, but she was interrupted by an eerie growl that came from the darkness outside their cave. It was uncommon, and the strangeness of the noise sent a shiver down Legolas's spine. "Something is here."

"I _thought_ I had heard something," she replied, and there was an immediate snarl from the rain. She stood quickly. "The Messenger has arrived." She hurried to the front of the cave, muttering something to Omarom as she passed, and stepped out into the rain; Legolas could no longer see her, and no longer had the energy to follow her with his eyes or lift his head. He dropped it back down onto the stone and heard Omarom come to a stop nearby and he watched several guards draw back from the entrance.

"The Messenger?" Legolas asked softly. "What is it?" The elf leaned down and covered him with a blanket; up to that very moment, Legolas had no idea he had been shivering with the chill of being soaked to the bone.

"A big, brute of a beast," the elf replied, "and you should not wish to meet or see it."

"Gives me the shivers just _thinkin_ ' of its ugly face," muttered another man from nearby.

They heard sudden shouting from the front of the cave and the screaming of a man who was clearly in pain. Vilyath also began shouting, her voice ringing clearly with no need for strain on Legolas's part to hear what was said.

"No! I said 'no!' Drop him _now_!" There was an angry snarl and Legolas winced at the gurgling of the man who was clearly breathing his last. "Damn you, Girith! Not the Master's own men!" he heard Vilyath snarl back at him. "You foolish beast! He would sooner kill you for such an act."

"Stay back," Omarom warned the others who were nearing the front of the cave to get a look at the creature. "Do not be fools." A sudden snapping caused her to give the beast an angry glare.

"The elf is going to your Master, remember? You will not be eating any prisoners or guards! You can take him the news that we have his prize; he is certain to be pleased. Are we still to meet him in Londeglai before we journey toward Mirkwood?" Another yowl and snarl. "Good, then, make him aware that we will travel as quickly as we may once the rain ends. The horses will be dragged down into the mud were we to travel now, and what is left of our band might become quite ill. We must be careful, what with you eating the men and—"

He snarled in her face, and Legolas heard Omarom take a step back even though he was nowhere near the encounter. "Settle down," she added contritely, "I need to watch out for what is left of our people. And what do you mean 'if he gets there?' What are you trying to tell me?" She listened to him for a moment, and then she stared at him. "There _are_ trackers? Truthfully?" She snorted. "This may actually get exciting. An elf and a _dwarf_ , you say?" Legolas's heart began to race, and he strained with his utmost ability to hear what was to come. This _had_ to be Enguina and Gimli; he needed to hear word of them.

"How far behind are they, Girith?" she continued questioning the creature, and she was shocked by the reply; Legolas could hear it in her voice. "A _half-day's ride away_?" With such news, now the idea of a confrontation did not seem so exciting. Vilyath had clearly seen how the Prince and his companion had decimated their ranks; she _should_ be wary. She let out a sigh of frustration, squared her shoulders, and Legolas could nearly hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "Well, you were in search of fresh meat, Girith. This is a perfect opportunity for you. The Master would want them gone; make sure that it is a _permanent_ solution to the problem." She looked through the rain and into his yellow eyes. "Catch my meaning?" The beast let out a howl, and she could tell he was thrilled with the idea of the chase. "And do not return to bring me news of failure. Meet us in Londeglai."

Within moments, the great creature had turned on its haunches and hurried off into the stormy night. She stepped back out of the rain, finding herself completely alone; no one wanted to be near the monster. Wringing out her hair, she turned and walked slowly back to where Legolas lay, Omarom still standing near him. Most of the other men had turned into their sleeping bags to wait out the downpour.

"Call him back," Legolas said, and Vilyath looked down at him.

"What?"

"Girith…your beast," he said with a struggle. His teeth were nearly chattering, but he forced control into his voice. "Tell him to lead them here, and then you will not have someone else's life on your hands. They are innocent; they are not involved in any of this. They do not even know what you want."

She leaned down toward him and shook her head. "I will not call him back; your friends made the mistake of pursuing you, and for that…I am afraid their lives are at an end. Girith does not show mercy. If they had left you well-enough alone, you might have joined them after your father gave us the land we are due. Now…" She shrugged. "All you can do is mourn them."

His heart ached. Whatever this Girith was, he was a force to be reckoned with, and Enguina and Gimli were walking right into a trap…with no knowledge of it at all. Could he dare to hope that both of them would survive the encounter? He had to _do_ something…he had to warn them somehow…but _how_?

"Can nothing I say sway you?" he asked softly. "Have you no conscience? Please, I will do anything—" His voice broke off in a fit of coughing.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do I detect a hint of despair, Prince? You know those who follow us, do you not? Good friends? Close? Loved ones?"

Fury welled-up inside him so that his temper exploded and he _spat_ in her face. " _Go to the Hells of Morgoth_!" he shouted. He was so loud, and so angry, that his shouting covered over Dragsúl's rush forward to silence him. " _You are as much a monster as that beast!_ " The kick came swiftly, and there was a loud crack and searing pain across Legolas's mid-section. For a moment, the elf could not breathe, and Dragsúl pulled his knee back again to drive another kick home.

" _No_!" snapped Vilyath, pulling him back. "He has had _enough,_ Dragsúl. _Enough_. Let him go." She turned him aside, and wiped her cheek with her wet sleeve. "Forget them, Prince," she stated over her shoulder as she moved away. "Girith always protects the Master."

After even Omarom had left him, Legolas despaired, pain spearing through him. He lay there for a long time it seemed, listening to the sounds of sleep and rain upon rock. This was the one situation he had hoped to never find himself: captured and alone with no way out while his family was in mortal danger. What was he to do?

 _There is always hope_. The words came back to him as if out of a dream. Aragorn's words, some years ago, but still true and ringing fresh in his mind. It was that last shred of hope that Legolas still clutched when all of his faith seemed to have run out. He reached for that pinprick of light, and he prayed unceasingly for the peace and presence of mind to think of something, the strength to _do_ , and the courage to take action. Ilúvatar had always been near; all Legolas had to do was reach out and seek him.

* * *

Enguina stood beneath the overhang of trees, water trickling down from the leaves onto her tunic and her hair. Soaked through, she hardly noticed. There was barely any light, but she knew that the sun was rising behind the heavy onset of clouds because the sky was beginning to lighten. She stood poised, looking outward into the darkness of the shrouded and stormy morning for any sign that it was about to let up.

"Confound it!" she heard Gimli cry from the small bit of shelter they had found. "This rain is intolerable! I don't think there's anything I hate more than being _wet_!" At his words, Enguina had to smile even though what she had seen brought her some gloom. She turned to look at him, watching him shake his head back and forth like a mongrel, water spraying from his beard. Nearly laughing at him, she smiled grimly.

"I hate to be the one to spread the cheer," she stated with sarcasm, "but we are not going to see an end to this incessant rain for the next few hours at least."

"Get back over here and out of the downpour, lass, before I have to come out there and drag you back in here!" She laughed at him outright.

"I doubt you would leave the dry shelter to come out here for me, Gimli." She turned back to the horizon and frowned again. She wondered and worried for Legolas. Had they stopped as well? Or was the elf somewhere out in this soaking rain, forced to ride a horse as she had been for many days? She worried so for him, knowing how wounded he was, knowing how terribly wounded Faramir had been…seeing his blood on the ground... She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm, tugging.

"I _said_ get inside," Gimli growled, "and I _meant_ it!" He pulled her towards the shelter, and Enguina rolled her eyes, allowing him to do so. "Now stay dry!" he said, letting her go ahead of him into the warmth of the tiny cave.

"Oh, Gimli…" she sighed, sitting down near the fire he had built them, "do not be such a worry-wart. I am perfectly fine."

He glared at her. "When you get some sense, I'll quit." He threw himself on the stone across the fire from her, frowning. "Do you think we'll lose the trail?"

Enguina nodded, frowning as well; that had been her worry since she could smell the storm coming. "The trail has been washed completely clean…everything from here forward looks as though it is a huge mud puddle; a swamp, I suppose I should call it."

Gimli sighed, frustrated. "Perhaps we shouldn't've stopped, then. If they are stopped as well, we might have had a chance to catch up."

Enguina sighed. "I thought of that, too, Gimli, but I think we may only succeed in drenching ourselves and making our horses ill. They could use the rest anyway," and then she paused, stretching her sore legs out by the fire, "and so could I. I do not believe my legs have ever hurt this badly." She glanced at him, blushing. "I have never had a reason to travel so far, so fast on horseback."

Gimli chuckled at her expression, and she took to looking at the fire again. "I haven't in many, many years. Mine hurt, too. At least you're not laughing at me like _he_ would be." She cracked a smiled at that, and a comfortable silence fell between them.

"Gimli," she said softly, "can I ask you something?" He could tell that she had been thinking.

"Of course, lass," he replied. "What is it?" She lifted her head finally to look at him instead of the fire.

"It is something that has been in the back of my mind for many days now, and I have been meaning to ask you about it. Do you remember the first night we spent at Henneth Annûn?" Gimli nodded slowly, not quite sure where this was going. "There was a comment that you made as we were sitting out there on those rocks that struck us all and I was wondering if you could explain it. Perhaps this is not the time to bring it to the surface, but as we were sitting here, I remembered it." Gimli shrugged.

"I don't remember what I said, lass. You'll have to refresh my memory."

Enguina eyed him intently. "You said that perhaps living underground was overvalued." Gimli grunted in acknowledgement, but Enguina continued. "I know that you have always desired to live in the Glittering Caves, yet still you have not gone to do so. And then, you made that comment to Legolas that it is not everything. What _is_ everything, Gimli? _Is_ there something that has changed your mind? I do not know if you will tell me what is hurting you, but if you will, perhaps I can help."

Gimli frowned, finally raising his eyes to her. "What you said is it, lass," he replied, his voice hushed, as he smiled sadly. "Change, Enguina…simply change."

She looked at him, and finally understood. She understood that he would no longer be Legolas' singular companion and fellow traveler. No more would they be able to roam where they chose, explore what they may, and go where they wished. No longer would Gimli be able to joke with Legolas that they needed another companion, because she was now there. There was someone taking his place; _she_ was the one taking his place and the realization caught her completely off guard.

"Oh, Gimli—"

"Oh, don't apologize! I'm happy about it!" he grumbled. "For the most part. I can't help the way I feel, that I think the way I do. I'm ashamed to admit there were times when I looked at Aragorn and I was glad that Legolas wasn't all dewy-eyed like he was and that he'd be that way forever." He snorted, and had the decency to look humbled. "I was wrong and selfish. Legolas is so much happier now that you've found each other, and I…I know there's no one better for him.

"What more can I say, lass? It's hard to let go of a way of life that I've been living for the years since the War, but you know what they say? Change is good, yes? So we'll make do."

He fell silent for a moment, thinking, and Enguina said softly, "Legolas feels that pain, too, Gimli. There is a part of him that wishes to remain a bachelor forever; to continue to spend time as he has always spent. Do not believe that he is not thinking of how much he loves you, Gimli. It was one of the first things we spoke of in our many walks in Minas Tirith. His bond with you is closer than his bond with anyone beside Aragorn. It has been on his mind since the moment he asked me to wed him." She sighed gently and frowned. "But choices always bring change—"

"And his life is better with you in it," Gimli stated, nodding.

She was silent a moment. "That is not what I was going to say," she said stiffly.

He raised his head to smile at her. "I know, but it's true. Legolas was always a bit jealous of what Aragorn and Arwen had together, though perhaps I shouldn't say jealous. I should say, covetous; he wanted to love someone the way that they love, without reservation or hesitation or condition. I remember him saying that there were years he had traveled with Aragorn, and every night the man would sit in the treetops and pray that Ilúvatar would watch over her, and he'd say his goodnights to her." Enguina smiled.

"She must have been doing much the same after they became engaged."

"Well, Legolas told me this was even during a time when Arwen barely knew him. He was always focused on her; he never strayed."

"Never?" she raised her eyebrow. "He wandered in Middle-Earth for nearly fifty years, Gimli. I find it hard to imagine that he—"

"Never," Gimli insisted.

"The Race of Men do not love as elves love, Gimli," she said sadly, "or even dwarves. Do you really believe that if something were to happen to Arwen that Aragorn would not do his duty to his people and take another?"

He looked at her. "I think he'd die without her," he insisted stubbornly. "They complete each other in ways I've never understood, Enguina, just as you and Legolas do. In you, Legolas has found that all-consuming love; the love that causes all other light to dim." He smiled. "It makes him lose focus of anything else in the world."

"Come now, Gimli," she said, thinking of an unfocused Legolas, "Legolas is _always_ focused, as is Aragorn. There is never a time when I see them otherwise!"

"It's when their ladies _leave_ that they lose the focus. See, when you're there, they concentrate on _you_ , but when you leave, they're still concentrating on _you_! For example, just the other day you'd left Legolas and I near the wall and moved on ahead. You weren't paying any attention, but Legolas was still watching you walk away, and he walked headlong into the sign for the apothecary's shop."

She laughed with him, blushing. "Did he really?"

Gimli nodded. "Aye, lass; so you see, there are many things you don't know about Legolas when he can't tell you them himself…" he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and that's certainly one of the things you'll _never_ hear from his lips. He can't admit he's so taken with you that he runs into signs."

She smiled and rested her chin on her palms, her elbows on her knee. "Gimli, I am so glad that you are my friend."

"And I'm glad you're mine," he said with a laugh, "though I think you benefit more than I!" He snickered, winking at her. "We really should find some rest, though."

Enguina's face fell suddenly, a sudden urge striking her. She needed to know anything and everything about him that she could. "Gimli…please, do you have any other amusing Legolas tales?"

"Well," he said, looking thoughtful, "I'm sure I could call a few more forward into my mind for you." She began to smile, and then Gimli moved into his greatest story-telling mode, and Enguina found herself thinking that if one day she were to have children, this was the dwarf she would want telling the tales as he had his arm wrapped around their backs as they sat on his knee. She could not help but hang on his every word, and there they sat, long into the night, laughing in the midst of all the rain and the trials they might face the moment it had ended.


	17. Chapter 17

It was pitch black outside, and though Legolas was still shivering he had been plotting, not sleeping, these last few hours away. He could hear the rain tumbling down from the cave's face and hear it splattering in the trees and on the ground. All of them, including the guard at the door, were asleep; he wondered how much longer he would have to exact this plan. The ropes remained digging into his hands and feet; this was the only part of his plan that he had not worked out as of yet, but he figured it was the one that he could work around. The best case scenario was that somewhere out in that rain there was a very sharp limb or rock where he could cut his ropes.

 _Time to move, Legolas. Time to find Enguina and Gimli and get them out of the trouble they are continually in._ _No one else can do this…no one else but you._ A grim smile came across his face, and he yanked himself up into a sitting position. The blanket slipped from his shoulders, and he could have screamed in pain. Lying in stillness, he had completely forgotten that he was badly injured. He held back the scream and a cough, and instead, sat trying to catch his breath, his every feature contorted in pain. When he thought it might have been all right to move, he shifted to his knees, his breath catching, his head spinning, but he forced himself to begin walking across the floor on them.

His wounds stabbed with pain at every movement, but he continued on his knees to the front of the cave, avoiding the guard altogether. He almost smiled at his luck; every single one of them was completely asleep and they suspected nothing. _Vilyath will be so angry with you all when she realizes you slept through my escape._ Carefully, he crawled past the man and moved out into the pouring rain. As soon as the rain began pelting him, he realized he was shivering, moving clumsily.

Teeth chattering, he mumbled to himself, "N-n-now to f-find a r-r-rock." Turning left and right about himself, he finally noticed the sort of sharp-edged rock he was looking for and made his way towards it slowly. Leaning backwards, he trapped it in his hands, slicing his fingers as he tore through the ropes. Coughing and shivering profusely in the soaking rain, Legolas sliced the ropes with surprising quickness for one so weak and ill. After a few moments, the rope snapped free and his arms dropped to his sides, yanking on all of his wounds. The muscles in his chest ached with the pain of the let-down, but he had more important things to worry about than his muscles complaining. He swallowed hard and _rammed_ the pain back. He was nearly free…he had to escape.

Turning forward again and sitting on the ground, he tried to untie his feet from their bounds, but his fingers were shaking so badly that he could not undo them. He lifted his feet and began dragging the cords over the sharp rock, his ribs and muscles shouting with pain. Continuing anyway and fighting the darkness at the edges of his vision, he finally snapped the ropes, collapsing back upon the ground. Exhausted, he had to lie there for a few minutes before he had no choice but to force himself back to his knees and shuffle forward.

Choosing a horse was his only option; escaping on foot was completely out of the question as he could barely walk. He was filthy, muddy and bloody. Tottering to his feet, he slowly made his way to where the horses were tied under a nearby grove of trees. Not a moment passed as he made his way forward that he did not wish for Brethil's face to appear, a friend in all this chaos. The horses were quiet as he drew near, stumbling along in the mud amid stones he could not see. He knew he was in terrible condition, and he struggled to figure how he would mount. A bay nickered at him and a chestnut snorted. They seemed to understand as he touched them that he was in dire need of assistance.

Legolas stroked the chestnut's face. "You are a g-g-gentle b-beast. I n-need to s-s-save my friends. Will you help me?" he said quickly. The chestnut did not move, but stood steady, and Legolas took that as an indication of 'yes.' Thankfully, the horse he had chosen was short which would make it much easier for him to mount up, especially in his condition. After untying the sorrel, he gathered the strength to tug himself up onto the horse's back but just as he placed his foot in the stirrup, something big brushed against him— _hard_. Legolas stumbled, and with a hiss of pain nearly dropped into the mud his boots were practically stuck in. He heard the stamping of feet and opened his eyes quickly enough to see a huge grey above him, ready to pummel him in the chest. Falling back against the sorrel, he had just enough presence of mind to throw himself out of the way. The horses spoke with each other angrily, and it made his anxiety increase a hundred-fold. If they woke the men and elves, they would catch him, and he _had_ to escape.

Adrenaline giving him strength, with renewed vigor he threw himself away from the horse and yanked himself to his feet. His wounds roared with agony, and he nearly doubled over from the pain in his ribs, but he ignored it as best he could. Slipping in the mud, he turned back to go after a different horse on the outside of the group, but he suddenly found himself face to face with the grey who had tried to trample him.

He did the only thing he could; he tried to calm the beast. "Easy," he whispered, holding his hands out and facing them palms downward, but the horse reared up and struck out at him. He back-pedaled quickly away from the reach of the hooves, desperate not to be struck…and then he was tumbling.

His heel had struck a rock hidden in the mud and he had fallen backwards. Trying to catch his balance served him in no way, and he dropped over the side of the hill. The mud carried him swiftly down, down, depositing him at the bottom with a _smack_ and a _splatter_. The pain seared through him, cutting off his breath; his head was spinning, he could also hear raised voices from above, and he knew his feeble escape attempt was ended. But he _had_ to save Gimli and Enguina; he just _had_ to…because if he did not, who else could do it? Who else would tell them some creature was making its way toward them? He tried, he reached, his fingers scrabbling against the rocks near him as he tried to rise, but to no end. As exhaustion began to overtake him, the voices grew louder, and there was one thought that resonated through his head and sliced through him like a knife before darkness took him.

 _You are so worried about saving them, Legolas…but who is going to save you?_

* * *

Aragorn prodded the fire gently with a stick, trying to tempt it into giving more warmth and light, but it was a futile gesture. The drenching rain was certainly putting a damper on any efforts to find Legolas, or even Enguina and Gimli for that matter. He and Arwen were behind, and they were falling further behind as they sat beneath the tree. The fire went against everything he had ever taught himself, and normally, the rain would not have bothered him, as he would have pulled up his hood and carried on.

But there were numerous problems with this scenario. The two of them had traveled an extra two hours into the downpour, and nearing their stopping point, they had to get down and lead the horses as the path they were following and become nigh impassable. And with one look at Arwen, Aragorn knew that they needed to stop. There was nothing that needed to be said—she was as stubborn as him; she would _never_ tell him it was necessary to stop. He knew that she was not only exhausted, but her injuries were also taking their toll, her head especially sore. Aragorn had called the halt, and _everyone_ had been grateful, especially the horses, who also needed the rest.

And although he, too, was very grateful for the rest, as he and Arwen had been in the saddle for _hours_ , he was _worried_. He was worried about Legolas, captured and severely wounded. They had seen the place of the attack, and the more Aragorn had 'seen,' the more anxious he had become. The elf needed to be found soon…and he was not the only one. Enguina and Gimli were out here somewhere, and Aragorn could tell that at the moment, they were still on the correct trail. This, at least, was some relief. And on top of these two worries was his worry for Arwen and her well-being. Should he have left her in Henneth Annûn? At least when they had left there, Faramir had been healing and Éowyn in better condition…

"I can see that look in your eye." He heard her voice come from behind him as she leaned near his shoulder, nearly startling him. "I know that it means you are thinking too much."

"You are right, of course," he replied, slipping his arm around her as she took a place beside him on the great tree's roots. She was soaked, and her skin was cold…but he could not ask her if she was because she would only tell him that she was fine. _Stubborn elves…_

"Of course," she agreed softly, and laid her head on his soggy shoulder. He stroked his fingers through her hair.

"How are you feeling?" he asked solicitously. "Are you well?" He knew her response, even when he had seen her pain as she was riding today.

"I will be fine."

"I did not ask how you _would_ be." She raised her head and he met her eyes, raising an eyebrow at her. He continued, his voice quite serious, "I asked how you _are_."

"I am f—"

"Be honest with me."

Arwen tilted her head. "I _need_ to be fine, Aragorn. The least of our worries right now is a cut."

"Believe me," he replied, "if the wounds you had were simple cuts, I would not even ask you about them. How is your head? Do you feel light-headed, faint?"

She hesitated, and that told him everything he needed to know as he reached over to hand her a waterskin. Accepting it gratefully, she took it from him and had something to drink. "I _am_ glad we stopped," she said lightly, giving him a smile. "Asfaloth has been none too pleased with me. For the last hour, he has been glaring at me, and I think he is wetter and dirtier than I am…if that is even possible."

He grinned at her. "Brego has been shoving me in the back with his nose to show his displeasure."

She gave a soft laugh. "Really?"

"Indeed, he was not very happy. In fact, exceedingly grumpy would be better."

"Would _you_ not be grumpy? Brego has much cause; surely, we mistreat them."

Aragorn snorted, laughing as he glanced at Brego, who at the moment was munching grass. "Oh yes, we treat them abominably ill. Look at how unhappy they are."

She laughed again, and then sighed, and before she spoke, he knew what she was about to say. "Oh, I wish this rain would stop. I know we were gaining on them. Perhaps as soon as it begins to slow, we should journey out and—"

"Arwen," he interrupted softly, "we need to rest."

"When you say 'we'—"

"I _mean_ we," he told her, hearing the bitter tone of her voice. "We all need to rest. You were injured, and yes, I am worried about you, but everyone needs to rest, no matter how much we need…we feel we need to hurry." _You let that one slip, Aragorn._ He moved on. "But we need to rest first and take time, otherwise we will not find them when we cannot watch the trail through our exhaustion."

"I thought I told you to stop bringing that up," she said, but Aragorn could hear the suspicion in her voice. "I know it is because you care, but I am going to be fine. In fact, I would return to the saddle in a few moments if this rain was ended."

"And your head would not protest?" She grimaced, and he frowned. "Forgive me…it is only because I care that I have cause to ask."

She looked up at him, and her eyes became suddenly honest. "I…before you let me sleep, I was unsure I would be able to sit upright. But…I am fine now. I thought that I would fall asleep and you were going to leave me behind."

It was _his_ turn to grimace. "I will admit I did think about it, but Brego forbid it."

She tugged her head away from his stroking fingers and narrowed her eyes at him. "You _were_ going to leave me behind," she accused him, and he heard no question in her voice. "How _could_ you."

"Arwen, you were barely conscious," he said softly, trying fruitlessly to defend himself. "I was afraid you would collapse or fall from Asfaloth's back or…be unable to sit upright, as you just pointed out yourself."

"It is different for me to say it and for _you_ to be thinking it," she told him flatly.

He sighed, and tried not to roll his eyes. _Women…elves…_ "Do not be angry, Arwen. I was worried for your safety _and_ your health," he explained, exasperated. "I do not need anything else to happen to you to remind me of your mortality, and hitting your head earns you more than a little rest in my thoughts. And we do not need any more injuries: Faramir is wounded; Éowyn is more than exhausted and bearing a child; Legolas is captured and possibly severely wounded, and we have no _idea_ at all the state of Gimli and Enguina." He frowned at her, shaking his head. "You will have to forgive me if I tried to avoid adding you to the long list of family that is in desperate need of aid."

She laid a hand on his face. "I am _fine_ , Aragorn."

"We have been through this before," he replied stubbornly. "I know very well that your fine is just as 'fine' as _my_ fine…which means it is not very fine at all." She narrowed her eyes at him and he groaned again. "Do not look at me that way. I know you are angry, but…" he hesitated and shook his head. "I am not in control here, Arwen; there is too much to chance. I am trying to trust Ilúvatar, but by Heaven, I do not know what His aim is here. You could not _see_ you…and you have no idea what I felt when I heard you had been injured and no one had been there to protect you."

Her fingers tightened on his cheek, and she felt her other wrist twinge when she shifted her weight onto it. "But between the horses and you, everything was all right."

"I know I should not blame myself for what happened at Henneth Annûn," he said softly, his voice burdened with bitterness, "but I cannot help it. I left you alone—"

"You cannot be with me every moment," she told him, but she saw in his eyes and felt the stabbing pain in her chest of his last absence—when their world had fallen apart. "Aragorn, do not do this to yourself. Stop thinking so much."

"I am your protector," he continued. " _Their_ protector. It is my duty to defend you and the others; it is my life." He laughed suddenly, looking down. "It is written in who I am. There is nothing I can do about it; it is a responsibility I cannot shake." He felt a sudden bout of desperate worry for Enguina…he had to protect her. He had to _find_ them, _all_ of them, and stop _him_.

"No one expects that of you," she replied honestly, but she saw a bit of hidden desperation in Aragorn's eye, and just as quickly it was gone. She tilted her head. "What is it?"

The rain picked up around them, and he took that perfect interruption to lean forward and prod the fire into giving more heat. His arm tightened around her shoulders in another moment, and he shook his head. "Are you warm enough?"

Oh, yes, he _was_ very clever, was he not, asking her if she was well to cast her off the scent of his anxiety. But no…she would not be dissuaded. "Aragorn, what is the matter?"

He shook his head, tilting it. "I do not know—"

She covered his lips suddenly with her fingers. "After nearly fifty years of knowing one another and seven years of marriage, you cannot possibly hide anything from me. I know when something is amiss. You have no secrets, Aragorn; your thoughts are not your own." She rested her hand on the center of his chest and he covered her hand with his. "I can feel your worry."

It was killing him to keep such a secret from her, but he knew…he knew it was dangerous to tell her. He was worried about her health as it was. If he told her… "I do not think this is a very good time," he replied honestly. "I am not sure it is a good idea to tell you at all."

"Tell me the truth, Aragorn. What is the matter?"

He was distressed by his thoughts; the words of Soronar haunted his steps. She could see right through him; she always could. Why he ever thought he could hide something like this from her, he would never know, and he had no idea how it had taken her this long to figure him out.

"Arwen…" he said softly. "I am worried about Enguina."

"Enguina?" She had not been expecting that at all. Legolas, yes, but Enguina? She was with Gimli; they would keep each other safe. Why in the world would he be worried about _her_? "Aragorn, why are you worried about Enguina?"

"It was something Soronar said," he told her. He had spoken with her at length about the elf's words, though they had not had time for her to visit with him before they left. There was nothing in the conversation that Aragorn had told her that would have given him even more cause to worry.

"Enguina will be fine," she soothed him, tightening her fingers on his chest and wrapping them around his hand. "She is with Gimli, and they are hunting for Legolas. We will be upon them soon enough."

He shook his head. "It is not that they are alone…I worry that…I am worried that she will come upon the captors before we reach them. And I am worried what will happen when they do. There is one among them, as Soronar has said, that she needs to be…" She watched as the lightning reflected upon his face and his lips tightened. His eyes held a fire she seldom saw, unless it was kindled with anger or indignation. "We need to get to Legolas first," he finished simply.

Anxiety overcame her every other thought. "Aragorn, _who_ is among them?" But as soon as she spoke the question, her heart knew the answer. She would not believe it; she _would not_ …not until she heard the name from his lips. There was no _way…_ it was _impossible_! Ilúvatar was too good; Ilúvatar would _never…_

" _Bragolaur._ " The word came out as a disgusted whisper through clenched teeth, but there was no way that she could have misheard him.

To describe what she felt in that moment would have been nearly impossible. _Horror_ , the hair on the back of her neck and arms rose as she thought of Enguina suddenly encountering the elf for any reason; _terror_ , that Enguina would freeze and fall victim again to his dementia; _loathing_ , that the elf lived still and no one had killed him yet, that he would be living among other people who did not know what he had done to her; and _fury_ , that Aragorn, who knew what he was, knew what had _happened_ , had concealed from her this truth.

She flung herself back from him, shoving herself off his chest with the hand that had held his moments before. "Get your horse; we ride _now_." Her voice was cold and brisk, full of the command that she had inherited from her father; it almost appeared that he stood before Aragorn, and not her. He obeyed without a thought, rising to his feet as she had turned her back on him…and then he came to. She moved to dampen the fire, but he reached out to take her arm.

She yanked back fiercely, holding up a hand to him, warding him off. " _No_ ," she snarled, glaring at him, and he came to a halt instantly. He had never heard her use that tone with him; he had never seen her so angry before. "Do _not_ try to stop me; do _not_ try to draw me in!" She stared daggers at him, her accusing eyes tight as she focused on him, her face reddening, her blood throbbing through her veins, her head beginning to pound. "She is in _danger_! _Terrible_ danger and _you_ did not tell me! How could you not tell me? You, who knew what he was, what he is, what he _did_ to her!"

The angry tears came, and she was even _angrier_ that she was crying. "What if he has her already? What if he is…god, right _now_ , _Aragorn_!" Her voice broke as she turned from him, and he reached out to take her hand. Just as he touched her fingers, she jerked away, catching her nails on the tips of his fingers and snapping back her injured wrist. She hissed in pain, clasping her wrist with her other hand and holding tightly.

"Let me—"

"You _knew!_ " she bit out, interrupting him, now lashing out in pain as well as anger. " _You knew_ it was him and if he finds her she will fall apart, and no one will rescue her, and Legolas is terribly wounded, how will _he_ protect her? And _Gimli_ does not _know!_ " The pounding in her head worsened, and she felt suddenly ill, picturing Enguina on the ground beneath _him_ again. " _God_ ," she whispered, her eyes closing, trying to hold the images, the feelings, the pounding at bay, " _I can hear her whimpering…"_

He closed the distance between them, noticing her knees beginning to shake. No matter how angry she was with him, she needed to sit down— _now._ He drew her towards him and back out of the rain, where she shoved back against his chest, away from his comfort, but she stumbled, her vision blurring. Her head and neck ached fiercely, and he tugged her back down to the roots of the tree. She could not fight him, and the tears came hot and heavily down her face.

"I _hate_ that you are so strong," she gasped, trying to pull back from him again, but he would not let her. "I _hate_ that I am trapped here. I _hate_ that I…I feel so weak right now, and that part of me _wants_ you to hold me…"

He could have smiled at that last part, but he refrained. "I am sorry that I did not tell you. I am sorry that I was worried for your safety as well as theirs. You need to calm down…breathe, Arwen, and take it easy."

"We do not have time for this," she groaned, trying to pull back from him again, even with her head and wrist aching as they were. "We must _find_ him…we must _stop_ him. You did not see her, but you have heard her crying out in her nightmares, after what he did to her! We have to _go_ —"

"You are more stubborn than I am," he interrupted her gently. "As much as I, too, want to go after her, and stop him, you _must_ rest. You are exhausted, and in pain, and were we to ride out now, you would collapse from Asfaloth's back and then where would we be? This cannot be overlooked, Arwen."

"No, _you_ are more stubborn…otherwise we would be on the road already."

"Arwen, I swear we will find them. We will catch them, and we will save Legolas and stop him. The man will pay for his crimes…with his life if necessary."

"I swear," she spoke bitterly into his chest, her voice ringing out even broken by tears, "I swear I will kill him _myself_ if he touches one _hair_ …if he so much as _looks_ at her!"

He nodded, his chin rubbing against the top of her head. "He will pay for what he has done, Arwen. We will find him. Do not despair."

" _Damn_ this rain," she growled, her fingers tightening on his tunic, and he suddenly found her clinging to him instead of trying to push herself away. She felt his hand stroke through her hair.

"We need to rest," he said softly. "The rain will stop in another hour or so, and we need to be ready to travel."

"How can I rest when—" she bit back the angry words and then he felt her breath come out in a huff. "This is _hard_ , Aragorn. _Hard_."

"I know," he replied. He was silent for a moment, praying for Ilúvatar to help them be strong, so that they could find them, help them, rescue them all. He was afraid for them all, and he needed to be untroubled by the fear so that he might remain focused. "Can you forgive me…for not telling you? I am sorry that I did not tell you; I am sorry that I upset you; and I am sorry that we are not racing toward Enguina at this very moment."

He felt her shoulders tighten beneath his arms, and he knew she was holding back the sobs threatening to rip through her again. "I forgive you," she whispered into his chest. "This is not your fault." He could feel the warmth of her tears, and he lowered his head to hers.

"We must trust Ilúvatar to protect them," he said softly, "when we cannot." He could bear no more losses in his family. For what he had done, for what he was planning to do, for what was not quite a thought yet but probably would be the moment he laid eyes on Enguina, Bragolaur would be stopped…even if he had to kill the elf himself.


	18. Chapter 18

" _Firgenwine_! What in all the hells of Morgoth—I told you to—"

Enguina had never seen a more frustrated and irritated dwarf than she saw now in Gimli. Filthy and swearing at the top of his lungs, mud was flying _everywhere_ as the grey pony hauled herself out of the mud pit she had climbed through. Lómë, long-legged and much less-inclined to trudge a foot deep in mud, skirted lightly along the edges, winding his way around trees and thick, high grass to avoid it. Enguina had to laugh; Firgenwine was so much more straightforward and no mud disgusted her. She was a hardy pony, and even though Gimli would have hated to admit it, matched him quite well.

They had left the cave several hours ago, and since that time had been faced with extremely soggy ground and terrible footing that forced them to do no more than walk as their horses slipped and sank in six inches of muck. Enguina had nearly been unseated several times as the less-than-sure-footed Lómë nearly went to his knees in the mud. She watched ahead of her as Firgenwine slipped and slid along another soggy path, and she gathered her wits about her as Lómë traversed it just as unsteadily.

"This is the _worst!_ " shouted Gimli from ahead. "We've completely and utterly _lost_ the trail, we've no _idea_ where Legolas has been taken with the kidnappers, _and_ we're sliding around in the mud like a pair of children in snow! This is _ridiculous_! Our traveling is going to get one of us injured, or worse, one of the horses."

Enguina felt Lómë come to a stop and give a full-body shake, spraying mud and water in every direction. She sighed and patted his neck. "They say the mud actually helps clean the horse's coat…so perhaps the mud is doing _someone_ some good."

Gimli snorted. " _Very_ funny, lass." He sighed heavily as he drew the pony to a halt before turning to wait for her. "I'm sorry for it, Enguina, but I'mdespairing. We've been lost for hours. What're we going to do?"

She sighed softly as Lómë drew up alongside him. "I do not know, Gimli. I have been praying steadily that somehow we will find the trail, or that it will find us. I…I do not _know_ what we should do."

"Well this much is sure: we can't go back without him simply because we won't, so we'll have to keep moving forward. At the very least, we are moving in the direction we knew they were last headed in." He prodded Firgenwine to turn about and to get moving again.

 _I wish that soothed me._ She nudged Lómë to follow the pony, and then she added, "We are fairly pathetic trackers, are we not?"

Gimli glanced back at her and winked. "What _were_ we thinking, coming out here after him on our own without Aragorn? We're utterly mad."

"Our hearts would never have let us wait, Gimli. Part of me wishes…" she muttered, and then sighed again. "Part of me wishes we had never come out here to Ithilien. We could have waited until after the wedding. And all because…because…" It was no use; she could not say it out loud. She felt somewhat responsible for what had happened. They would not be out here if Legolas had not thought she was too stressed; they would be back at home, planning for the wedding. She shook her head. "If only we had not come."

"Ah Enguina, don't travel that road. We can only do what we can now."

"But we could have searched for a home afterwards," she added miserably. "Instead, we were out here when we should have been back in Minas Tirith—"

"Would it've been better to search for a husband than an intended?"

"Certainly not!" Enguina exclaimed.

"Well, considering we've got no idea as to what these men and elves are after, I wouldn't concern yourself too much with what we could've done to prevent it. Nothing could be done, Enguina. Just let it go." He turned back to smile at her. "At least they have no idea they're being followed."

"Unless they had spies on the way."

"Now _you're_ determined to be a worry-wart."

She frowned. "I guess we each have our moments, Gimli." The clouds still hung low on the horizon, and the fog hovered so that it obscured even her excellent vision. She heard Gimli grumbling about it before her once again, but she continued to squint into the deepening gloom. Ahead of them, the plain opened a bit, and she was glad to see that; at the moment, they were tired of the woods. As they exited the last set of trees, Enguina saw a small, dark shape appear off to the west near a standing clump of trees.

"Confound this fog," muttered Gimli again, and Enguina urged Lómë into a trot to meet up with Firgenwine. She drew up alongside him and pointed towards the shape.

"Gimli, can you see that dark object to the west near that grove of trees?"

He shook his head. "Enguina, even if I could see that far, I can't see _anything_ in this fog. Your eyes are far better than mine; what do _you_ see?"

At that moment, the wind blew towards them and both horses snorted at once and began backing away through the tall grass. "Whoa, Lómë, stand," Enguina said, and then to Gimli, "The horses do not like the scent. That is not a good sign." She narrowed her eyes, trying to make the vision clearer. "Unless my eyes are deceiving me, I would say that the shape is getting larger."

"Larger? As in: moving this way?"

She nodded, and Gimli noticed her hands tighten on her rein. "I think there is more than one shape…yes, definitely…three. Three dark shapes are moving this way…the other two are a bit smaller."

Gimli squinted hard in the direction she was looking and after staring hard could only _just_ make out the faintest outline of a large black shape. "Are they horses, Enguina? Riders?"

"I do not think so," she replied softly. "The heads are all wrong…and the way they are leaping…"

" _Leaping?_ " The sound of that worried Gimli greatly. "Enguina, leaping indicates a predator—" He was interrupted by Firgenwine's sudden whirling about on her haunches as she tried to take off into the woods. Gimli halted her at the last moment and turned her back, urging her forward; she would not go back to Lómë's side, and it was the first time he had ever struggled with her. "Firgenwine! What do they know that we don't?" When Enguina did not respond, Gimli looked up at her, watching her face gather in fear, her eyes widening. "What is it? Enguina, what do you see?"

" _ **Run!**_ "

She turned Lómë on his haunches much as Firgenwine had, but instead of returning to the woods, he bolted down along the treeline, mud flying from beneath his hooves. Firgenwine, who had never been able to truly keep pace with Lómë, was pacing him now, and the clueless dwarf on her back simply held on for dear life. He was yelling something, but Enguina could not hear him. He had no idea what they were running from, so he looked back over his shoulder. What he saw stole his breath away.

Bounding through the mud were three gigantic warg-like creatures, the one in the center much larger and blacker than the others racing ahead of it. Even from a distance of this kind, Gimli could see their claws tearing at the earth and the sharp fangs glistening as they snarled aloud. Regular wargs were terrifying, but these creatures…they had certainly been spawned from hell.

"They're gaining on us, lass!" he shouted to her as their horses continued to run flat-out. They could not run forever, not with their horses more tired than they were.

"Keep running, Gimli!" she called back. "I am thinking!"

"And when the horses tire?"

This had been the question Enguina had been trying to win over in her mind. She could hear Lómë's breathing, and she knew he could only go for so much longer before he could not keep the pace any more. _Ilúvatar, protect us! Please, please!_

She had no experience with a creature so large, and she had no idea how to combat. It was nearly twice the size of Lómë, never mind Firgenwine! How were they to battle with it without getting killed? No, hand-to-hand was out of the question, but…perhaps…

"I have a plan," she told Gimli. Tying her reins in a knot, she looped them over her horn and touched Lómë's neck. "Keep running, Lómë," she whispered, and then she turned in the saddle, drawing her bow, and aiming it back at the creatures.

If Gimli could have laughed at this situation, now would have been the time to do it. Leaning over and drawing the bow up to her face, Enguina's draw looked so familiar it was hard not to imagine it was Legolas there at his side. Her focus was the same, the way her eyes narrowed at the edges as she laid in the course of the arrow through the fog. He watched as she steadied herself, her balance perfect in the saddle as she aimed directly at the largest warg's eye. She loosed the arrow, and Gimli watched as it arched through the air and headed straight for its intended target, but just at the last possible moment, the warg jerked aside and it knocked into its shoulder. The warg never slowed.

She gritted her teeth and prepared to release another arrow. "Gimli, do you have your throwing axes?" she asked, and he shouted an affirmative before drawing one out. He was not quite as confident as her in his balance. "Aim for the smaller ones!"

 _Take this, you ugly brutes!_ Aiming for their eyes and hearts, Gimli loosed an axe for the guard on the left, Enguina for the guard on the right. The axe struck the warg directly between the eyes, the force of it splitting open the animal's head, and dropping it immediately. The other warg stumbled, blinded in one eye, but still kept on, putting a burst of speed and racing out in front of the other warg, _furious_. Gimli prepared another axe, but Enguina had this animal covered. Firing three arrows in rapid succession, she hit the warg in the other eye, the snout, and then finally, hit the other eye so hard the point blew through the warg's socket and skull and into its brain. With a splash of blood, the beast fell.

"Nice shot, lass!" Gimli hollered, delighted at their progress, and the adrenaline of their flight and their kills so far lending them courage. The dwarf tried another throwing axe and the elf a few more arrows, but even though they stuck into the warg's hide and shoulders, they still did not slow him down. "This is no good," Gimli complained. "We're going to need our hand weapons!"

Enguina's teeth clenched again; in hand-to-hand combat, she was at a loss. She could hold her own perhaps for a few minutes, but against this monstrous creature? She watched him draw his double-bladed axe and heft it in both hands as the beast gained ground rapidly. Lómë's breaths were coming out in pants, and Firgenwine was nearly a full length behind the black now.

"Gimli, it is gaining! Hurry—"

"Set yourself up for a killing blow, Enguina!" Gimli called to her.

"What?!" she called, her eyes widening at his words. " _What_?"

"You'll know it when you see it!" he hollered back at her, and then he called Firgenwine to an abrupt halt and dropped out of her saddle, keeping the axe close to his chest and rolling over and then to his feet as he slapped her on the rump. She took off ahead to get away from the charging warg as Gimli stood facing the creature.

" _ **Gimli!**_ " Enguina screamed his name, her stomach dropping, her heart wrenching within her as her head snapped around to see him hefting his axe just as the gigantic warg came running at him. The hideous face snapped at him, huge fangs coming down mere inches from the dwarf's beard as terror consumed Enguina. Before she even knew what was happening, she was yanking back on the bit and Lómë was flinging up his head, coming to a sliding stop in the dirt with mud spraying out on all sides. As the horse whirled about, snorting and rearing, she stared, transfixed.

Gimli stood before the beast, slashing at him with the double-blade. He knocked it across the face, ducked under its massive jaws, and came up to his full height at the animal's shoulder, slicing a deep wound there. Snarling, the warg tried to spin on him, raising one huge paw to clap him across the chest and sweep him from his feet. When Gimli touched down, he rolled, hugging his axe close to his body as the warg's jaws snapped shut just where he had been. A paw moved to come down on him and hold him in place, but he sliced the pad of it and rolled away again while the beast roared, now even more furious than before. Lunging and snapping at Gimli, the dwarf met every paw with his axe, slashing and cutting as much as he could, praying Enguina was nearly ready with that shot.

Enguina spurred Lómë forward, and the horse reared in fear. She leaned down and touched his neck. "Lómë! Gimli is in danger! Forward, _now!_ " She spurred him again, and this time, against his better judgment, he leapt towards the fight, Enguina knocking an arrow as they flew.

Gimli stumbled back, the warg reared back on his hind legs, and then the dwarf lunged suddenly forward, trying to plunge his axe into its chest. The beast was able to save himself by moving slightly to the side, the axe embedding into his right side, near the shoulder. Screaming, the warg smacked Gimli aside with his caws, but the axe remained stuck fast, striking bone. His prey, meanwhile, was rolling aside, and he went after it, snapping, completely oblivious to the elf on horseback.

Aiming for the warg's eye, Enguina loosed the arrow and it plunged through in a spurt of blood and other viscous substances. Roaring and delirious with the pain of the wound, the warg struck out in that direction, launching itself at Lómë and as the horse spun in fear, knocked its claws directly into Enguina, dropping her from the horse's back as Lómë fell onto his side.

" _Lómë!_ " she screamed, rolling to her feet as she felt the warg's horrid breath on her skin. She snapped off another arrow as it leaned down to snap Lómë's neck with its long fangs, and then, roaring, fell back as the horse scrambled up to his feet and bolted. She would never have blamed her black as the beast then turned to her, its hideously scarred face far too close for comfort. He turned even further and leaned forward to snap his jaws over her head, but she got her bow up just in time to loose an arrow into the roof of his mouth. Slamming his mouth closed, the arrow snapped in two, and he snarled, raking his claws down across her shoulder and knocking her backwards ten or fifteen feet. She continued to roll back, and when she got to a knee, she realized that her bow lay five feet behind her—it had been yanked from her hand during the confusion…and he was coming for her!

 _Ilúvatar in Heaven! Please!_

" _AGHHHH_!" The warg leapt for her and was knocked in the ribcage by the last of Gimli's axes. It stumbled to the side, thrown off balance by the force of his attack, and Enguina wasted no time as she darted forward to reclaim her bow. As soon as it was in her hand, she fired another arrow; this time, it tore out the warg's other eye. Screaming in agony, scratching his face to dislodge the arrow, he stumbled around trying to find the two of them on scent. Enguina yanked out Legolas's knife, the only hand-combat weapon she had thought to bring, and tried to prepare herself for when he found her.

Gimli, however, used his axe as a ladder; swinging onto the beasts back from its leg, he landed on the beast's back, gripping around its neck with his knees. It tried to dislodge him, but Enguina lunged forward with the knife, slicing open the lower part of the warg's jaw and neck, gore everywhere. But still, the beast stood, slashing forward with his claws and tossing her aside as though she weighed nothing. And while distracted, Gimli hacked down along that neck with his short axe and severed the beast's spinal cord.

One, two, three…it took for hacks with his axe to drive all the way through the animal's neck and cleave it from his torso. The body collapsed and the head rolled several feet away, Gimli falling into the empty space as there was nothing to hold him there and he lay there on the ground, his axe falling from his hand as he tried to catch his breath.

Moments passed, and he finally lifted his head to see Enguina, looking right back at him, eyes glistening, blood all over her and, he found, himself. Her breathing was just as labored as his own, and her face held the same adrenaline, the same fear as his did. She lowered herself to her knees to rest, and he could tell quite easily that she had wounds just as well as he did…and just as awful. He grunted and sat up in the mud, bracing himself on his knuckles as they simply looked at one another.

"Well…" he muttered, "that could've been easier."

"Nice work," she said back, swiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her shaking hand. "But you will _never_ …and I mean _ever_ do that to me again. Do you understand me?"

He saw something in her eyes then, and he recognized it for what it was—love, and fear that he was going to be killed, and friendship. He sighed and then struggled across the few feet that separated them to hug her fiercely. Enguina gasped as she tried to hold back her tears; she was not going to lose him. He was safe…and _she_ was safe…and they had beaten this massive beast.

They held each other for as long as they wanted, both simply too relieved to do anything else. Behind them, they could hear hoof beats, and Gimli opened his eyes to see Firgenwine headed their way, Lómë several lengths behind her. Gimli smiled and then released her slowly, wincing at his own wounds, and knowing as soon as he looked down that hers might be worse.

" _That_ isn't pretty, lass," he said, and she followed his gaze, then she nodded towards him.

"Yours are not pretty either."

"Well, since we should be dead right now, I've got no complaints at all!" He laughed and lifted his face toward the heavens. "Thank you, Eru, for saving our hides once again!"

"Amen," she said softly, thanking Him a million times in her head as Gimli hauled himself to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"To get our wound supplies," he replied, nodding towards her. "That's deep."

She nodded. There was no way she could get to her feet at the moment, so she watched him walk to his pony and beginning drawing supplies out of the saddle bags. "Gimli, what _was_ that creature?"

"It's a warg of some kind."

"I have never heard of one so large," she added, shaking her head. "Where…where do you think it came from?"

"I've no idea," he replied as he came back to her side, handing her a water skin as he nearly fell to the ground beside her again. He winced when she looked at him, watching him roll his shoulder, and sighed. "If I had to guess, I'd say it came from them. Wargs hunt easy prey without a master, and we were by _no means_ easy prey." He gave her a smile. "We made a good team today."

She smiled at him. "I was terrified you were going to get your head bitten off."

"I thought that was going to happen to you when you lost your bow. I guess there was no good shot to take down that beast, hmm?"

"No," she replied with a grin, "just good, old-fashioned head-chopping."

"Oh yes," Gimli said with a chuckle, "we could certainly use some more old-fashioned decapitations. As a matter of fact, I think I might be able to think of a few people that might deserve some." His eyes darkened. "You're bound to see more of them on this trip."

There was silence for a few moments as both of them began taking supplies and cleaning their wounds. Neither of them wanted to admit it or be the first to complain, but it was a painful process, and they were both extremely quiet during it. After a few moments, as Gimli began spreading a soothing balm over the tear in his shoulder beneath his tunic, he looked at her thoughtfully, though her back was to him. She had turned aside, as she needed to undo her tunic to try and mend the wounds.

"Gimli," she said suddenly, "if those wargs _were_ sent by someone, do you think it might profit us anything to follow the tracks?"

Gimli was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well, it might not lead us exactly to our captors, but the tracks should get us close. I'm sure those beasts left miles of them, and it would be our best lead to find Legolas. I think it'll work!"

"I would wager my heart that they are nervous that we are following them, and so they sent their beasts to stop us. This will be perfect; they probably think we are dead and so we will undoubtedly surprise them when we catch up." Straightening her tunic, she turned back to him. "We have lost so much time and traveled at a great pace in the _wrong_ direction. We should leave as soon as we are able."

Gimli nodded. "I agree. This is our chance to make up lost time and to find these traitors." He winked at her. " _Now_ , you're thinking like a tracker! That's a good plan.

She lowered her gaze and blushed. "Oh, Gimli, I hope he is at the end of this trail. This journey has been hard to endure, and I am so worried about him." Then she suddenly laughed and winced, touching her left arm and frowning. "Look at me, still worried about him when we are here, injured and falling apart."

"We're still breathing," Gimli pointed out, "that counts for something! _And_ if anyone or anything else comes our way, we can take 'em!"

She laughed again, her spirits a bit higher. "You have that correct, Gimli." The dwarf pulled himself up and stretched, testing the binding on the wounds on his arms.

"I'll check on the horses while you finish up, and then we'll be on our way."

* * *

It was late evening, and after several _long_ days of traveling, Vilyath and her bedraggled band nearly crawled to the outer gate of the little village they called 'home.' In the drizzle that still fell, the gatekeeper never even questioned them. Knowing exactly who Vilyath was, he allowed them to pass into the wayward town of Londeglai.

A small group of shacks and a tavern made up the center of town. There were numerous hitching posts, a small grassy area where livestock could graze, and at the very center, a well to draw water for both people and animals alike. Londeglai was not _really_ a harbor; it bordered directly on a pond that joined to a stream that caught up to a larger river _eventually_. It was really a safe haven, a few shacks in the middle of nowhere that provided a place for the people who belonged nowhere to stay. Those needed refuge from the law had created the place, and there was no rule or law there except the honor of thieves; if anyone of authority in Gondor had known of the place, they would have disbanded it, and more than likely burned it, long ago.

Instead, this was the place where Legolas found himself coming awake. His head was swimming; the last thing that had happened to him, that he could remember, was crawling on his knees to reach the horses. His body ached all over; he could barely lift his head. There was such a weight on his chest that he felt as though someone had been sitting on it for hours. He found his breathing was heavy and he knew that he was very ill. The wounds were awful; he tried not to think of them. He could do nothing about _any_ of this situation and clearly his escape attempt had been ill-fated from the start. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the thick cord that bound his wrists to the horn of the saddle. No, he was not escaping anywhere. If, and that was a hope that Legolas had to keep with him, Enguina and Gimli had survived Girith's attack, he might be lucky enough to be rescued. He had no choice but to wait until then, or try for an opportune moment.

He tilted his head back, stretching it against the pain and stared into the night sky, finding pinpricks of light. _Honestly, Father? Ilúvatar, what were you thinking? I was not, am not, interested in a test this close to my wedding, with this long of a separation from my loved ones, from my betrothed. You are keeping me alive, which I am very grateful for…but I feel like hell. Please…please bring an end to this rather quickly; I would rather be in the arms of my love._ He slowly released a breath, humbled. _And this is not the best prayer to ever leave my thoughts, but…I am not in the best of conditions, am I? You will have to allow me some grace, Father._

Leaning forward slightly, he began to slide his wrists from the saddle horn, but a dagger fell down across his hands. "Really, elf? You're going to try and escape _again_?" The tone was full of disbelief, and when Legolas raised his eyes he came face-to-face with Dragsúl.

"It was completely unsuccessful the last two times," added Omarom from the other side of him. "I would not waste my time again, Prince."

"On the contrary," he muttered to them, trying to keep his wits about himself, "the saying goes, 'do first, but if you fail, do again.' You can only prevent me from trying."

"What if I knock you unconscious into next week?" snarled Dragsúl, digging the edge of the dagger into the back of the elf's hands.

"Dragsúl, _enough_ ," Vilyath snapped, tugging her mare into line to shove his horse aside and away from Legolas. "Does the Prince not have enough scars to last him? His last escape caused _him_ more trouble than us, and we lost no more time. Let it be."

Dragsúl snorted and turned his horse aside. "As you wish."

"What exactly _were_ you thinking?" she said, turning back to him, Omarom still remaining on his left side. "It would never have worked, you know."

Legolas tilted his head and coughed away from her before tilting his head back and giving her a wry smile. "I had to try; you would not recall Girith."

She outright laughed at him, and it stung. "You are such a fool! You were thinking you would ride off to save them? Captured yourself and _still_ you must play the hero!" He tried to ignore her then, taking in as much about the surrounding shacks as he could, from the water in the trough to the dirtiest shutter, but she continued, "I suppose you can think of nothing but them, so grieve if you must. They will not have survived him." A muscle twitched in Legolas's cheek, but it was the only outward sign that he had even heard what she had to say. She smirked at him. "So, you have decided I am not worthy of your temper?"

She was teasing him; he knew it, tried to refuse to give in to it, but he was angry and so he looked at her, fixing her with an icy glare. "No, you are very worthy of it, I assure you. I am not grieving, and I have no intention of doing so. My friends are not dead; but I hope you all, at least, are enjoying yourselves, for you will soon regret every act you have performed in evil."

"We will mark your words," Omarom said, and Vilyath heard no sarcasm in the elf's voice. He believed there would be some retribution, and Vilyath could not pretend that a part of her did not agree with him.

"Once your father gives us the land we seek, you will be free to go," Vilyath reminded him. "Nothing more is going to happen to you." She sniffed at him, rolling her eyes. "And I regret nothing that we have already done." But there was something in the way she said it that made him wonder if she meant that.

"You are going to fail," he whispered to her, his eyes hard as steel. "People like you, like yours always do. You cannot win; you will never win."

"Shut your mouth," she whispered back, and he shook his head.

"Would it irritate you if I just kept on?" She struck out at him with an open hand quite suddenly, and it was a testament to his reflexes that even as ill as he was, he had the ability to avoid her, just raising his chin enough so she would miss.

"You are full of snide remarks today."

"I do try." She raised a hand to slap him across the face again, but he jutted his chin out in defiance then. "You could try that again, but I doubt that your second attempt would be more successful than your first."

"We are here," Omarom interrupted, and Vilyath turned her horse immediately away from him. Legolas turned his eyes to the establishment in front of him. Shutters were falling off, tiles from the roof were loose, and bricks were falling from the outer walls. Other than that, Legolas figured Gimli would probably see it and sputter: _A fine establishment for some drink!_ At this thought he smiled and when the horse pulled up with the others outside of the _Warg's Prey_ and the travelers dismounted, the elf did not even blink an eye when they dragged him down from his horse.

He could not, however, put one foot in front of the other, so Omarom and Dragsúl had to half-carry, half-drag him inside. When he did make it inside, he could not help but notice the _Warg_ was mostly just a dilapidated inn, one that might have been similar to _The Green Dragon_ of the Shire, where he had some excellent ale, though Legolas could hardly believe that place would ever go to shambles as this despicable place. The tables were dirty and the chairs were worse, some seeming as though they might collapse if you set your backside on them, and the glasses…dare one even comment?

A figure in a dark cloak caught his attention coming down a staircase toward the rear of the establishment. Legolas heard muttering from some of the men around him, but he could see a smile on Vilyath's face as she moved forward to meet him, holding her hands out to take his. There was no doubt when he took her hands in one of his and stroked her cheek with a single finger that this was 'the Master' they had been speaking of all along.

"You have done well, _Yesta_ ," he said to her, and the voice made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Though Legolas could not see the look in his eyes as he spoke, he already knew it quite well; he had seen it on others who cared only for passion. The light in Vilyath's eyes held a promise that made him sick.

The elf's finger dropped, and he shook the hood back from his face as he turned to look at the rest of his men. "You have _all_ done well," he said to them, and then he smiled. "Take some rest, gentlemen." Legolas found his eyes fixed on that scarred face.

It had once been a handsome face; an elf of the Golden Wood he had clearly been and of noble rank and stature. Only Ilúvatar knew what he had done to fall among the lowest dredges of society. Legolas's eyes were drawn automatically to the scars crisscrossing his face; a set ran down the right side from ear to chin, in five deep lines, and another set of them ran straight down the center from forehead to chin. Wherever the scars had come from, it looked as though the elf had been in a fight with an eagle. In disgust, they reminded him of the white paint spread across the Uruks faces during the War, creatures he had spent far too much of his time killing.

The 'Master' turned his eyes towards him. "And welcome, welcome to our guest," he said quite lavishly, spreading his arm. "I hope you are prepared for a bit of a stay."

Legolas lifted his head to meet his eyes evenly. He found, as he stared into those blue eyes, that they had a bit of a crazed look to them; his impression was that the elf's mind was not entirely all there. Another thing Legolas noticed in them was anger; it simmered close to the surface. Legolas was in no shape to provoke him…at least not now, so he decided to remain silent for the moment.

"I assume you know why you are here?"

"She may have mentioned it once or twice," he replied wryly, "and yet I cannot imagine that she is serious. Do you realize who you are dealing with?"

He smiled darkly, and the scars became a bit more menacing. "Do _you_ know who _you_ are dealing with, _Prince_ Legolas?"

Legolas could not resist. "I did not realize you were anyone of importance," he replied simply. "Should I know you? Please, tell me who you are so you can strike fear into my heart by your very name." He heard several gasps around him, but he felt the eyes of Vilyath most keenly. _Probably a bit much with the sarcasm…Ilúvatar, forgive me._

"I will allow your tongue for the moment," the elf replied smoothly. "Have you been…at home recently, Legolas?"

"At home?" he asked, thrown by the question. "Not for several years, and it was not very lengthy of a stay when I _was_ there."

"I have been…" he cast about for a word, " _plaguing_ your homeland now for four years; not so much myself, but others I have been using to cast annoyances their way, such as the goblins off in the Misty Mountains. Every once in a while they run down and kill someone—just for sport."

Legolas sneered at him. "These are your own people, and you would have alliances with _goblins_? Evil creatures; they terrorize and kill. You are no better than they."

"I asked the question, because you might have heard my name if you were at home. And _your_ people, Prince, are _not_ my people," he sneered right back in Legolas's face. "I was cast out from _my_ people, in _dear_ Lórien, more years ago now than I care to remember." He leaned back, standing tall. "I am Bragolaur; I have been leader of this band for many years, and I have been living here for an untold number of them. Londeglai has been my hidden fortress, but no longer." He smiled at Legolas, and again it cast a frightening light into his eyes. "No, soon your home _will_ be my home…and your _father_ will be cast out."

Legolas coughed and shook his head. "You are a fool."

"A fool, am I? My men have been watching you for some time, Legolas." He glanced to Dragsúl. "Were those with him killed?"

"They were dealt with in several ways, my Lord," Dragsúl replied with a grin, and Bragolaur nodded.

"Excellent." He turned back to Legolas, his eyes hardening. "I know that your friend, the King of Gondor, has a history of being quite relentless, and I have heard stories about the… _dwarf_ —" he spat on the ground, "you have called your friend." Legolas lunged forward with sudden strength at the insult to Gimli, but hands held him fast. "If he has been killed and we are days ahead of your friend, the King, then I should very much be in the clear."

"Girith took care of him," Vilyath said and Bragolaur grinned.

"An excellent death, then. So you have met him—Girith?"

"I heard him," Legolas stated through gritted teeth. "But you cannot know the dwarf if you think a single warg can stop him."

"Girith is not simply _any_ warg, Prince."

"My friends are not simple folk either; they are warriors," he stated. "And when they find you, which they will, you can be assured there will not be much mercy to go around."

Bragolaur stepped up and glared into his eyes. "Even if they do somehow manage Girith and they arrive here, they cannot beat me. Not even the King of Gondor could best me—not in hand-to-hand combat."

Legolas snorted. "You cannot be serious if you know anything of him. Not one can stand beneath the power of Andúril, Flame of the West. What power do _you_ possess that will overcome him in battle?"

"Does he never make mistakes?" Bragolaur snapped, his face twisted in anger.

"I have never seen him make one, save once. Many have tried to kill him and failed. But if the threat of him alone is not enough, there are others. You _will_ die, Bragolaur; I can almost see it."

"You are awfully cocky for a captive," he said softly, menacingly.

"That's what I've been saying," murmured Dragsúl, and the elf suddenly lashed out and thumped Legolas in the ribs with his fist. The pain caused his knees to give out and he fell, his captors letting him, his cracked ribs screaming; his head swam and he nearly retched, catching himself on one hand and coughing over and over.

"I rather enjoyed that," Bragolaur continued in that same soft voice. Then, he directed his words to Legolas, "Your father _will_ give me his land in return for you, or he shall see you return in pieces."

"You know _nothing_ of my father," Legolas spat, groaning. "He would never betray his people and give away the land he has cared for since the time of his father, King Oropher. You will never even see a _piece_ of Eryn Lasgalen. You might as well kill me now."

"I could," he replied, flexing his fingers in irritation, "but then I would have no ransom, and I want desperately to see the look on Thranduil's face when he surrenders to me. We have wandered in the wilderness, homeless, for too many years. This is our chance!"

"So you need to take _my_ homeland?" he asked, lifting his head, still on his knees. "You cannot have it," he stated, staring fiercely into his eyes. "I would die before I become leverage for you."

"We shall see about _that_ , Prince." He glanced at Omarom. "Make him uncomfortable upstairs, if you take my meaning, until we are prepared for journey." Omarom and Dragsúl drew Legolas to his feet again and began dragging him roughly towards the stairs. Bragolaur turned and reached an outstretched hand to Vilyath, taking her upper arm in his hand, and none-too-gently. Legolas's senses had dulled in his weakness, but not enough that he could not hear the words he spoke low in her ear.

"And you, my sweet, are coming with me; it has been too long since you have pleased me."

Legolas's lip curling with disgust, he wrenched his head back around and called out to the elf, "What happened to your face?" He felt the thud of Dragsúl's fist across his face, and he fell to his knees again, this time banging them on the steps.

The knuckles of Bragolaur's hand holding Vilyath turned white, but she had enough sense not to wince. The elf looked straight at Legolas as he raised his other hand to touch the edges of the right-most scar. "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made to…get something that you have always wanted. Have you ever wanted anything so badly that you would do anything to have it?"

Legolas assumed that was a rhetorical question, but he made to answer it anyway. "No," he replied. "I would never do _anything_. There are some things no man should do."

He smiled. "That is the difference between you and I, Legolas. Some things are worth _any_ sacrifice. I would give my left hand to have that same feeling of… _power_ again. I have never felt anything quite like it since."

Legolas was not completely sure he knew what Bragolaur meant, but if those scratches were from _hands_ and not an eagle as he had originally thought…then he could piece together the rest. His stomach roiled within him, and he glared at Bragolaur. "You…are a sick bastard. When you die…you will rot in the pits with the demons of—"

The words had been muttered, but the other elf picked up on them easily enough. "Legolas, when you place your hands on a woman, you know where they belong."

There was a moment of silence.

"Whoever did that to you," Legolas growled low, "should have torn your throat out."

"You will never speak of her again," Bragolaur suddenly snarled with irrational anger, and Vilyath _did_ grimace at the amount of pressure he placed on her arm. "I should have killed her then, but next time, she will not be so lucky. I was too slow; I did not have the strength. If I ever come face to face with her again, I will take her life myself." Seeming to come back to his mind for a moment, Bragolaur raised an eyebrow at him. "Now, I believe you have some tying up to get to and I…to a much more pleasurable experience. If you will excuse us." He nodded to Omarom. "Take him away."

* * *

The sun had already set, but there was still enough of a moon that Aragorn could dismount and find a trail. According to Soronar's directions, they were only about a day and a half's ride from this Londeglai. Even though there had been inches of rain and they were six to seven inches deep in mud (Brego kept reminding him), Aragorn could still take notice of several changes that had taken place along this path. Ever since he had mentioned Bragolaur, Arwen had been driving herself in such a manner that worried him. She had to be sore; she had to be exhausted; yet, he could feel nothing from her, and she would not let him see how she was really feeling. He glanced up at her, found her watching him intently, and he thought immediately they should have halted more. He could have sighed; she would have had none of it.

"What is it, Aragorn?" she asked softly. She knew quite well that though she was an elf and she could hunt well enough, he could see signs in the ground and earth like no one she had ever seen. There was nothing as watching him in action, in the hunt. She shook her head. "I cannot _hope_ to interpret what you are seeing. Tell me."

Her voice sounded a bit lighter than it had over the last several hours, so he smiled at her words. "I believe that our friends have departed from the captor's trail."

"What?" she asked worriedly. "Would they have reason to do so?" Then she sighed. "Were they simply lost; they could not find the trail?"

"I would assume they were lost," he replied. "They are headed northwest, Legolas northeast. If they could not see the trail in the dark and the mud, they were forced to choose. But there is something else here, the tracks of something strange and large."

"Warg-like," Arwen said. Those tracks she could clearly see from the saddle. Asfaloth snorted as Aragorn nodded.

"Definitely, but much larger."

"So…now what?" she asked, her voice full of frustration as she leaned her arms on the pommel of her saddle. "We have to make a choice as well, do we not?

Aragorn returned to Brego and mounted easily, coming to stand beside her again. "We _do_ have to make a choice. We could follow Enguina and Gimli, but I am not sure this would be a wise decision."

"Because we may lose the trail altogether."

Aragorn nodded. "If we continue to follow this Vilyath's trail, we will surely reach Londeglai; she was not lost."

"What about Enguina and Gimli? Could they be in danger? Are they so lost they will not find their way home again?"

"The warg tracks are older than theirs," he stated with a sigh. "I am wondering if they were not following the warg on purpose. If we follow them, it is possible we may lose Legolas completely. We must find Bragolaur, we must find _Legolas_ , before they reach the edge of Eryn Lasgalen. If we hurry from here, we might be able to catch them before they leave Londeglai. Soronar told us their intention was to meet there. We might be able to catch Bragolaur as well."

Arwen was silent for a moment, looking at the divergent paths. "What…what if—"

Waving a hand, Aragorn cut her thought in two. "Absolutely not."

"Aragorn," she chided him, "it _is_ logical."

"Forget it entirely. Logical or not, the risk is too great."

"But it will save time! We cannot be in two places at once, but if we split up—"

"Arwen," Aragorn said warningly, a clear sign that she ought to drop the matter.

She pushed him instead. "We might be able to save Legolas _and_ help Enguina in one shot. You can follow Legolas's trail to Londeglai, and I will follow Enguina's. This way, you can catch Bragolaur, and I will catch up with our friends, and Enguina never has to know that he was behind…" She drifted off when she saw the look in his eyes. "I can see that you do not like this idea."

"Are you certain?" he asked in the driest voice possible.

After a moment of thought, she realized she did _not_ want him to take on Bragolaur alone. "I agree with you. How about _you_ follow Enguina, and I will go after—"

"Out of the question!" he said, exasperated. " _Arwen_ …" He closed his eyes, drawing in patience and breathing out frustration. "Neither one of us is going anywhere alone; can you not understand?"

"Understand what?" she asked, but he could sense the tempest behind it. Her every movement now seemed to imply that he thought she was too weak to take them on herself. How wrong she was!

"Arwen, I do not want to risk the chance that one of us will walk into Bragolaur without the other. We do not know their full strength, we do not yet know the full extent of Bragolaur's madness, and we do not know how poor the condition of Legolas is at the moment. We shall certainly have better odds taking them together instead of alone." He gave her a little smile and reached over to tip her chin towards him with a finger. "Arwen, you are one of the strongest people I know, and one of the most capable fighters; do not doubt my knowledge of that. Alone, we are strong, but together we are unstoppable."

The fire in her eyes died. "You are right, of course," she said softly. "I am… _worried_ , about Enguina and Gimli out here alone with Bragolaur on the loose."

"The faster we find Legolas, the faster we can prevent the other two from doing something incredibly stupid." He gave her a smile. "Cheer up. We shall be upon them faster than you know, and then Bragolaur will wish he had never been born." His smile became grim. "He will rot in the darkest dungeon. Though, Thranduil may probably enjoy locking him away forever in Eryn Lasgalen."

" _Any_ situation that puts him out of reach forever would be perfect," she agreed. She said another silent prayer for their friends, and Aragorn did as well, _reaching_ to her and providing them both with comfort. Above all else, she had to hope that Enguina would not find Bragolaur first. Arwen was certainly not worried that her friend would kill him; _that_ was the best scenario. But Arwen's greatest fear was if Enguina found him and completely froze in time. What if _he_ , Bragolaur, remembered all those years ago in Lothlórien; what had happened, what he had done, and now tried to regain what he had lost? What if no one could stop him? There was no choice; they _had_ to stop them…they had to. She breathed a sigh, looking a bit more renewed, even in the dim light.

Aragorn met her eyes and returned his hands to his reins.

"Shall we ride on for a little while longer?"

Within moments, they were following Legolas's trail again.


	19. Chapter 19

"I still say that this is the smelliest tree we've ever camped under," muttered Gimli, returning his head to a smelly root.

Enguina's laugh carried to his ears, and he cracked a smile through his grumbling. "Gimli! You really should try and get some sleep; we agreed we were only stopping for a short while. Honestly, shh!"

Gimli snorted. "Well, that'd be wonderful except every time I breathe in there's a horrible stench!"

Enguina laughed again. It was their first stop in hours, and it was the first time Gimli had complained since this morning when they had been attacked by that huge Warg. They needed the rest badly, for they were both exhausted and wounded. Her eyes were closed, but for some reason she could not sleep either. She smiled to herself about Gimli. "Dwarf, it is an old tree…and when they are rotting, old trees begin to smell."

"Well, then why'd you have to pick _this_ tree to sleep under?"

Enguina sighed and then snickered. "Are the herbs you drank going to your mind, Gimli? Y _ou_ are to blame for this sleeping spot!"

Gimli rolled over to look at her back. "What? I did nothing of the sort…" But even as he said it, he realized she was right; he had, in fact, chosen this exact tree. He remembered wanting it because it was large and if it chose to rain again at least they would be covered.

She laughed out loud. "Oh Gimli, you are so forgetful!" He watched as she began to roll toward him, but then her laughter faded and she hissed in pain, quickly rolling back over. Gimli turned on his roll and sat up beside her. He reached out and touched her elbow. She had her right arm wrapped around her waist after rolling onto her injured side and shoulder.

"Enguina, you all right?"

"Yes," she muttered, and then winced. "I just…rolled onto the wrong part of my body." She muttered names at herself under her breath, thinking how stupid she had been to do so. She laughed, trying to release some of the pain. "I am fine, Gimli; get some sleep."

"Let me see that wound," the dwarf responded, taking hold of her elbow.

"Gimli, please…I am all right." She gave a gentle smile to him as he went to move her arm. "Elves heal quickly, and you certainly do not have to be my nurse."

Gimli scoffed at that and glared at her, looking down at the side of her tunic that was turning dark with fluid, and even in the night he could see it. "You know, you're as bad as the elf!"

"I _am_ an elf, Gimli!" she laughed at him.

"No, _the_ elf, Enguina. You will find, if you haven't already, that Legolas is pathetic when it comes to injuries." He lifted her arm higher and frowned at her. "You're bleeding again, lass. You should change that bandage, and put more ointment on it."

She gave a sigh and frowned as Gimli moved to draw the ointment from a saddlebag. "I was afraid that had happened," she groaned as she rose to a sitting position, grimacing in pain. But as Gimli turned back to her, she smiled mischievously. "What were you speaking of Legolas and him being pathetic about injuries?"

Gimli grinned wickedly as he placed the ointment down for her and gave a chortle. "You might find this a little 'shocking,'" he said jokingly, "but your husband-to-be doesn't like being injured and doesn't like being taken care of." He shrugged. "Perhaps it's an elvish thing."

Enguina smiled shyly. "Perhaps it has something to do with who is doing the caring. Sometimes people do not like to be touched by strangers."

"I'm hardly a _stranger_ to the elf!" Gimli stated indignantly. "No, I think it's more like he's a whiny child—"

"Gimli!" Enguina laughed.

"Really, have you ever seen him injured? No? He's like a little child!" A smirk came across Gimli's face. "Honestly, I remember, this time where Legolas and I were traveling home from our visit to the Glittering Caves where he had agreed to travel with me. And we, much like the situation we are in now, were attacked by wargs." Enguina could not help but smile; she knew that the dwarf was exceptionally fond of telling stories of Legolas, and she was rather fond of hearing them.

"Please, Gimli, do tell!"

"Mind you, these were regular size Wargs," he added, "probably still wandering in the wild from the incident we had in Rohan during the War! They were nothing like that giant beast we just fought! But anyway, as I was saying, we had this battle, and naturally, there were some injuries going around, much like the wound on your shoulder.

"Well, Legolas would hear none of that! He wanted nothing to do with my helping him bandage that messed up shoulder of his. Went for two days before he'd even let me so much as look at it! He can be so stupid and bull-headed!" Gimli snorted. "Well, by then it wasn't in the best condition, not that it was anything we couldn't straighten out, you know. But it was certainly more painful than it would've been. He was just a big baby…of course, he'll be in total denial of that if you ask 'im. But I warn you in advance, Enguina, heed my tale. Legolas is a bit ridiculous when it comes to wounds."

Enguina chuckled. "Do not fret, Gimli. I will watch out for him…though I think we are all like that when it comes to wounds."

"I can only hope he isn't badly wounded when we find him. Honestly, the elf will be a complete nightmare!" The dwarf sniffed and then gave her a gentle push. "Unless of course, you're right about who's doing the caring part, and he'll simply let you fix up whatever he needs." She laughed softly, and blushed. "Well, anyway, aren't you going to replace that bandage and put more ointment on it? Hurry it up; you're supposed to be resting!"

Enguina blushed a little more deeply and did not move. He looked at her, raising his eyebrow. She gave a soft sigh. "Gimli, could you…turn around, or something?"

"What?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

Enguina shook her head. "I…am not comfortable removing my…garments…in front of—"

Gimli's ears suddenly turned pink and he gave her a sheepish look, as though he suddenly remembered that she was a woman. "Sorry," he said awkwardly, and then quickly turned his back to her. She smiled at his back.

"It is all right, Gimli."

"I forgot," he said softly, looking at his hands. "Sometimes, I forget important things like that. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I am…uncomfortable around men," she admitted softly. "It is not your fault."

"Well, you shouldn't be comfortable undressing around men!" Gimli said indignantly. "That'd start givin' people the wrong impression of a lady!"

Enguina chuckled softly as she carefully undid her tunic and began to remove the blood-soaked bandage over her side. The wound was seeping, as was the one on her shoulder, and it was frustrating to her that she could hardly keep it clean.

"I think you understand what I really mean," she said, and he shook his head.

"Why didn't you say anything this morning? I could have left you alone to take—"

"I made sure it was all right—"

"Clearly not enough!" he growled. "That wound shouldn't still be bleeding. How does it look?"

"Fine," she lied convincingly. She carefully cleaned the wound again, barely restraining gasps of pain. It made her think of Legolas just a few months ago when she needed him to help her with her bandages. He had been so careful to make sure that he had not hurt her. How she longed for him! "Gimli," she added softly, "where would I be without you? I would have been dead already, and probably long before the warg."

" _Bah_ ," the dwarf replied, low in his throat, "you underestimate yourself! Legolas would be rolling his eyes at you right about now, and telling you how wonderful you are and how well you've done already. Look at what we've accomplished!"

Tears flooded her eyes so suddenly that she could not answer him around the lump in her throat. She remained silent, half-choking on her tears as she re-wrapped the wound. As she tried to wipe her face, she heard Gimli clear his throat.

"I miss him, too, lass, but I'm sure he'll be all right," he mumbled, and she realized she had embarrassed him with her tears. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"I…I am not upset," she whispered, clumsily buttoning her tunic. "I just wish he were here, Gimli. I was always alone, and now that we are together, I cannot imagine my life without him." The words tumbled from her mouth; she was afraid, _so afraid_ to lose him. "You can turn back around now," she sniffed, and he did, looking a bit sheepish. "Forgive me for the tears," she added. "I promise to do better."

"There's no need. With any luck we'll be upon them tomorrow."

"Thank you, Gimli, for your encouragement."

He looked at her as she laid herself back down on her mat. They only were going to rest another hour and then set off again. He felt for her; though he loved Legolas, he could not know the pain of being absent from a betrothed for such a reason. Unable to imagine what Enguina was feeling, and trying hard not to think about Legolas being injured and alone against these evil men, he forced himself to lay back down…and try his best to endure the stench.

* * *

Legolas groaned. Simply by the first rays of sun coming in the window, he knew time had passed. He had not been sleeping; he felt as though his head had been split in two, and he could taste dried blood on his cracked lips. This brought back the memory of Dragsúl teaching him a lesson in uncomfortable. Dragsúl, with Omarom nearby, had beaten him with any object in the room that had not been nailed into the floor or the wall. His whole body felt like pulp, and his chest was racked with the coughs of illness. It had been some time, but Legolas could recognize the feel of it; he knew that if he had to pull himself to his feet now, he would never be able to do it. He did not have the strength.

He coughed again, pain gripping him from his wounds, and then held his breath, desperate to quell it and the discomfort. How many hours had it been since he was conscious? Somewhere, off to his left, he heard the staircase creak. He winced inwardly. _Could you not have forgotten about me for an hour more? Perhaps I could be dead by then…instead you can torture me as long as you wish._ He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed with all his might.

 _Father! Father, forgive me for my despair, but I can barely see you. I do not want to die; forgive me for thinking it, even for a moment. I have so much to live for now that I have found her. Enguina…Enguina, Eru please! If I am to die, please…let me see her face one last time. Let me tell her that I will be safe with you, so that she will not fear, so that she will be taken care of. Just to hear her breathe, Father…that would be enough…_

His heart broke with grief at the very thought of never seeing her again. _Enguina! Enguina!_ He cried out, his whole being reaching for her, searching for her. _Eru, help me! Help me to live, to keep my faith, my strength! May you give my friends the strength and the courage to find me…save me, please. I do not want my life to end now, not when I am so close to being with her forever. You alone know how much my flesh can take; you know this heart beats by your will alone. Help me, please!_

He heard voices behind him, but they were still outside the room. "Dragsúl, did you kill him? The elf needs to survive long enough for us to make our behest of the King; if he is dead, we will get _nothing_ from Thranduil." Legolas could clearly tell this was Bragolaur; he heard the door creak.

"I didn't kill him; I just gave him the beating he deserved."

A foot at his shoulder knocked him over onto his back, which only served to make him cough for a moment or two. The sheer pain of it nearly made him wish he could stop breathing; he had never felt so awful in his entire life…and that was a very long time. He gritted his teeth once the coughing was done, but did not waste time opening his eyes.

"You could have killed him," murmured Omarom. "It is difficult to tell who he is with all that blood on his face."

"Vilyath will clean him up before we travel, do not _fret_ , Omarom," Bragolaur said. "It is obvious he is not dead; he can clearly feel pain." He leaned down close to the Prince's face. "How _are_ we feeling, Legolas?"

The elf cracked a bruised eye and met Bragolaur's with such gravity that there was no mistaking he would have spit directly in his face if his mouth had been wet enough. Instead, Legolas lifted his head slightly from the floor and said, "Did you miss me while I was out?" His voice was a bit raspy, but he forced the words out. "Have you been wishing I was dead yet?"

Bragolaur smirked at him. "Oh, you think you are special enough, worth enough, that we would not butcher you and send you in pieces to your father? You think you are so brave that you can withstand anything?"

"You will not send me in pieces to my father," Legolas agreed. "It would bring war down upon your heads, a war you could not possibly win. Bravery has nothing to do with anything. _Will_ and _conviction_ are _everything_." With those words, Legolas reached upward with a hand, snatched the front of Bragolaur's tunic and dragged him within two inches of his own face. "Ilúvatar as my witness, I will see you hang for what you have done."

Legolas dragged Bragolaur's forehead into his own as hard as he could and then flung him away, shoving him across the room where he stumbled backwards into the far wall. Dragsúl lunged forward but Legolas raised a leg and planted his foot directly into the man's groin, driving him to his knees. The elf rolled to his knees and saw Omarom standing there, surprise written all over his face. He moved forward, but Bragolaur approached first, his eyes bloodshot with rage. Launching himself at Legolas, the elf shoved himself to his feet, his body propelled by adrenaline alone as he met Bragolaur's hands with his own in midair, caught in a wrestling match. Bragolaur was the stronger, fueled by rage and with Legolas's body refusing him out of weakness, there was only so long he could hold this position. His heart, however, was full of strength, and so after moments of wrestling back and forth, he shoved forward, pressing Bragolaur hard against the window. With a smash behind him, it broke, glass shattering down into the street where the elf would have fallen had he not snatched the sides of the frame, cutting himself on the shards jutting out. Raising a leg, Legolas moved forward to knock him the rest of the way out, but Dragsúl had found his second wind. He whirled to meet the charging man, a wild grin made dramatic by the dried blood on the side of his head and his untidy hair.

"You want more?" Legolas asked, his voice soft and deadly. He side-stepped the burly man, even though he had lost some of his agility with his many wounds. Over his shoulder, as he spun, he noticed Vilyath had appeared in the doorway beside Omarom, who stood stock-still, unable or unwilling to get involved. Blood began seeping from wounds that had scabbed over; he was leaving a trail, but he kept moving.

Dragsúl spun as well and swung at him as Bragolaur made his way back in through the window; again and again the man threw punches, and Legolas continued to dodge, both of them breathing heavily. He ducked beneath another swing as he saw Omarom begin to move towards him, and he shrugged his shoulders—it was now or never. Ducking low, he lunged forward, attacking Dragsúl's lower body causing the man to shout. He hit him low and hard, doubling him over; Legolas shoved forward, snatched him up by the legs and threw him with a swift move up and over his shoulder. Yelling as something tore near his ribs, he released him as hard as he could.

Dragsúl yelled, flinging out his arms, unable to prevent his descent towards Bragolaur. At the last moment, the elf threw himself out of the way and Dragsúl fell out the smashed second-story window. A scream and a sickening crack was heard, and Legolas ducked low as Omarom came at him from behind, yelling. He grabbed the other elf's arm and flung him forward over his body; Omarom came down on his back in front of Legolas and he lay still. Stumbling forward toward Vilyath and the door, Legolas could barely catch his breath. Pain seared through him; wounds he had forgotten that he had acquired were openly bleeding, his legs shaking unsteadily. Staggering forward, he could see another goon had reached the top of the stairs.

Bragolaur sprang at him, and he barely brought his hands up in time to meet him. This time, Bragolaur was ready, and he had a serious advantage; he knew right where to hit the elf to bring maximum damage. Bringing his fists to the elf's ribs, he drove his knuckles into an arrow wound and Legolas yelped, bringing his elbow up into Bragolaur's throat, driving him back. He stumbled forward, intending to land another hit to the elf's scarred face, but darkness was swimming in front of his vision and his stomach was roiling. As he lost his balance and leaned a bit too far forward, Bragolaur smashed his elbow into Legolas's shoulders, and then flat-palmed him to the center of his chest, knocking the breath completely out of him. He fell back, cracking his head off the floor, where Bragolaur proceeded to straddle his body and just keep bringing his fists down upon him. Legolas could hear shouting echoing in his head, the screams of a woman and others. Finally, the weight left his body, but the one on his chest remained; he could not draw breath. It felt as though his chest were so heavy he could not force his lungs to lift it.

"My Lord! My Lord, stop!" Vilyath cried, from about a foot away, and then there was a thunderous clap that broke the screaming in the room, and a cry of pain. Legolas felt himself rolled onto to his side where he began to choke and cough and sputter out blood until his body was exhausted. He barely breathed for the pain, and he lay still just where they had moved him.

"You could have killed him," Omarom said. "He will die if you keep wounding him. Look at his condition!"

" _Raucodil!_ " Bragolaur roared. "You son of a _whore_!" He spat blood from his mouth upon the floor, raising his hand to his split lip in anger. "By Morgoth, I swear, if I did not need you I would beat you until you were a _smear_ on this wooden floor!" He kicked the elf in the ribs, and something shattered; Legolas cried out, but could not move to clutch the damaged area as he wanted to. Omarom shoved Bragolaur back before he could do any more damage just as another of his lieutenants, Marloch, entered the room.

"What is going on?" he cried out, staring about. "What has happened?"

"The Prince attacked," Omarom replied, Bragolaur beginning to come to his senses, his eyes losing a bit of their flame. "Dragsúl—"

"Is dead," he interrupted. "I was outside near the horses when he fell. The drop snapped his neck; he was dead immediately."

" _Piutorco_ ," Bragolaur cursed. "This elf has cost me more men than I can count! It is time to make our way toward Eryn Lasgalen. Omarom, Vilyath, see to it that he finds his way down to a horse and that he is _tied_. There will be no more mistakes; Dragsúl was a fool! No captive should be left unattended or untied; he deserved his fate for his stupidity. I will lose no more men; do I make myself clear?"

Omarom nodded, and Vilyath met his eyes though her face wore a frown. "Yes, my Lord," she whispered, and as he stepped past her, he snatched her chin in his hand and dragged her close, his fingertips bruising her.

"Do not _ever_ get in my way again, _Yesta_."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Your eyes are only for me," he stated, his voice cold. "Every last inch of you is _mine;_ remember that, I will do with you as I please. Obey me."

"Of course, my Lord." He released her and then brushed past her to head out the door.

"I want to be gone from here before dawn, so get moving…all of you." As soon as he was out the door, Omarom and Marloch exchanged looks and then turned to where Legolas still remained, his every breath a wheeze.

* * *

It was still very early morning, and the way ahead of them was nigh impassable. Brego stumbled over a tree trunk, finally tired. He and Asfaloth had given everything they could by this point, but the hard riding they had been doing was finally taking its toll. Aragorn led the way before him, reins in hand with Arwen leading Asfaloth behind. The last few miles had been very difficult; thick mud covered the ground and they had to walk to follow the trail, dragging the sliding horses. The horses were exhausted, and their people…Brego could hear the panting behind him. They needed to call a halt or they would be dropping where they stood.

Brego could see where Aragorn was leading them: there was a muddy hill directly in front of them which lead to a cave. He had told Arwen hours ago that there must have been a place where Vilyath had led them undercover and out of the weather. As they began to climb the hill towards the cave, Brego bumped Aragorn with his nose, slowing in his own exhaustion as he stumbled along over a few tree roots. The man's hand found his nose and he snorted, low and long. Aragorn fell back till he was alongside Brego's shoulder and laid his hand on the breastcollar.

"A few more yards, Brego," he said, breathless himself from the climbing of the hill. "Are you all right?"

"{Well I am not, friend. Exhausted all in this party, you have.}"

"You have traveled farther than this and in greater haste," he told him, yet Brego, hauling himself to the top of the hill let out a long sigh.

"{Not for me do I worry. For my Queen."

The concern in Brego's voice made him turn as Arwen came to the top behind him. His eyes missed nothing, from the mud covering her leggings, to the hand that rested on Asfaloth's neck not only for encouragement but for support; her eyes, though sweeping the area just as his had been, were tired, her body on its last bit of strength. Never once had she urged him to slow down, to stop; never once had she complained about being tired or sore. But it was clear she had not been ready to travel so far so quickly…not in her condition.

"{Mad you are,}" Brego nickered, "{if you do not see what I see.}"

"No, I see," he agreed, patting his friend's neck. "Thank you. I know we have needed to rest, but I…" He shook his head, "No, there is no excuse. Forgive me, Brego." He glanced back to Arwen and saw her leaning her shoulder against Asfaloth's, her head resting on his cheek as she whispered something to him, her hand stroking his face. Her eyes closed, she did not see her husband studying her. "Let us hold here, Brego. Perhaps you can find some good grass up here on the left bank." Brego dipped his head. He turned back to her. "We can rest here, Arwen, and let the horses graze."

As he turned back to Brego, Arwen's knees nearly buckled with relief as she clutched Asfaloth's saddle and breastcollar. Her head was pounding, her neck aching, her arm and wrist felt so weak she could hardly lift them, but she was not about to complain. Every time she thought about it, her mind went directly to Legolas…and Enguina…and then Bragolaur, and then the image made her sick to her stomach as it did now. She rested her head on the saddle, weary beyond words, as she unbuckled the straps and undid the cinch. It was a testament to just how exhausted she was when she did not hear Aragorn step up beside her.

He rested his hand over hers and tightened his fingers. "Are you all right?"

She did not know what she wanted to tell him as she lifted her head. She did not want to lie, but she did not think that the truth would make any difference. Perhaps this journey had been too much to undertake for her so soon after her illness…but no, she needed to find Enguina. Part of the truth could only help her. "I cannot lift the saddle," she said softly, and he nodded.

"Let me," he replied. "I will make him comfortable, and you can take our bedrolls over to the cave. Perhaps we can scrounge something for dinner." She tried to give him a smile and then nod, moving out of his way to collect what he had asked her to get. But he caught her arm and gently tugged her into him, sliding his hand up to her face and holding her there for a moment. "It is all right, you know," he told her gently. "I am tired as well."

"I know," she replied, leaning her head heavily into his hand. Asfaloth turned his head at that moment and bumped Aragorn's head towards hers with his own. The man chuckled and kissed her gently. She opened her eyes, a bit surprised, and he smiled genuinely at her.

"Asfaloth made me do it," he said with a soft chuckle, and she smiled at him before she released him and moved toward the cave. He let her go and removed the rest of Asfaloth's tack. "Good boy; take some rest and find some food."

"{Take care of her,}" Asfaloth snorted and walked slowly away towards Brego.

"I know what you said, Asfaloth," Arwen sighed, "and I do not even speak horse."

Aragorn looked up and saw Brego peeling back his lip with laughter, and then he noticed Arwen leaning against the cave entryway, resting her head again; in her hand was a pack of food and under her arm were their bedrolls. Shaking his head, the man made his way toward her.

"Here, let me take that."

She turned her head in reply, but did not open her eyes or release what she was carrying. "I thought perhaps you should look at the cave first to see what you can tell."

"Very wise," he said, and he quickly lit some wood nearby to have a torch to see. It did not take him more than a few minutes and he had returned to her, noticing she had set down their small set of supplies. This time, she looked at him. "They were definitely here," he said, but there was something in his eyes and Arwen noticed immediately.

"What? What is it?"

"Legolas is…gravely wounded, I fear." She could see the urgency in his gaze. "I am…worried."

"We should go," she replied, standing up straight.

"We cannot," he returned. "The horses need rest, and so do we. You are in no condition to travel, Arwen. Be honest with yourself."

"I _am_ honest," she snapped suddenly, turning on him. "We need to _find_ them! Legolas will be dead before we get to him!"

"Calm down," he told her firmly and her eyes blazed as she turned away from him. "Arwen, we have to be reasonable; there is no way we could travel right now. We need at _least_ a few hours where we are lying down." He watched her for a moment, the tension in her shoulders making her muscles taut. He knew she was not really angry with him; she was angry with her weakness. He was weary, too. How to make her see that was the challenge.

Unfurling his mat, he lowered himself to the cave floor, yanking off his boots and tossing them aside as he went. He leaned his back against the wall and noticed her still standing there, her hands on her head. "Arwen," he said, "come here, please."

"No," she said firmly.

He watched her; she _was_ angry. "Do not behave this way."

" _What_ way? You are _sitting_ there when we should be gone already. They are in danger! Did you give one thought to your own condition when you rode to me this past winter? Did you?" Her voice was stern, but amazingly enough it was still soft…and strict enough to make him feel as though Elrond was in the room with them.

"No, you are right; I did not," he admitted. "But you have to see the difference in the situation, Arwen. Brego and Asfaloth need to eat and rest, just as we do. We have been through this before." His eyes still on her, he watched as she swayed slightly on her feet. "Arwen, _please_." He did not want to have to go and get her; she was angry enough. "What if I swear to you we will leave in four hours?"

"Four hours?" she echoed, grief choking her. What could get _worse_ in four hours: Legolas dead, Enguina assaulted, Gimli butchered…god, the fear overwhelmed her. Suddenly, she felt his presence in her head, his soothing calm, and then she felt his arms.

"Let go of your anxiety," he whispered in her ear. "Let go, and let Ilúvatar take care of him until we get there." He could feel her knees shaking; she needed rest and food. "You are weak; come and lie down before you fall over."

She gripped his tunic and looked up into his face. "I am afraid, Estel. And I gave too much today," she said weakly. "I am at war with myself. _Exhausted_ ," she continued breathlessly, "frightened…I cannot choose if I should lay down or if I should just run, _run_ to them until I know they are safe… _make_ them safe."

"Then let me to choose for you. Four hours of rest; we need it." She lowered her forehead to his shoulder, closing her eyes as he laid his hand on the back of her neck. "Your head?"

"My head," she agreed softly.

"Only?" he asked, and she slowly shook her head back and forth. He swung her up into his arms and he watched her eyes open.

"I could walk, you know."

He gave her a little smile as he lay her down on the mat. "I could let you," he murmured, lying down beside her. "Are you hungry?"

"Can a girl not get some sleep?"

He chuckled, and bowed his head in embarrassment. "Forgive me. Sleep." She lifted a hand and ran it through his hair, and he looked at her.

"I am so sorry I was angry with you," she said as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. "I am so worried about them; I know you are as well. But you…control your fear so much better than I do."

"Years of practice in channeling it," he replied softly. "And I remember to pray."

She nodded. "I will do that if my eyes stay open long enough." They were already closing, and her voice was drifting away at the end.

"Arwen," he said, and she smiled, "I love you." She was gone, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead and smooth her hair away from her face. Even after five days of riding, covered with mud and grime, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; she was a fierce fighter, as stubborn as himself, and she was hurting far worse than she let on. But he would not press her, instead he would care for her as he could.

He needed rest too, rather desperately, but before he did he rose and did one more complete walkthrough of the cave. He knew Legolas had been wounded; he knew the exact spot where he had lain on the floor. He knew where Vilyath had stood at the entrance, knew where the men had beaten Legolas, and he could see bloody crawl marks along the floor where…

Legolas had _escaped_? He lunged forward to follow the tracks that he and the horses had obscured outside. It shamed him immediately, to think that he had never even thought the elf would try to escape into the night. He found, upon his wanderings outside, a sharp, bloodied rock and some cut rope, dozens of horse footprints, and then a tumble down the hill. Clearly, this had been Legolas's first attempt at escape; it did not appear as though it had been successful. There were dozens of footprints where the elf had fallen. But even the _thought_ of their entire journey being in vain because Legolas had escaped came as a delight. Even if Legolas had broken away, they would find him. Perhaps his captors knew that they were being pursued by his very deadly friends; he did not know. All he knew was that they were less than a day behind, and that when they _were_ found, they would regret the day they laid hands on Legolas.

Aragorn never thought about failing the elf, only about saving him and stopping those who took him. There was no doubt in his mind now; he trusted Ilúvatar to bring them together again. It was not Legolas's time, and he certainly was not ready to say goodbye to the elf. They would find him, and bring him home. Aragorn took his place beside Arwen again, and he was reminded just how hard he would fight to always be able to see that face when he woke. He curled himself around her protectively and laid his head down. Sleep would come quickly and then end quickly…and he hoped that the dawn would bring them to their final day of hunting.

* * *

The day had been long, but at the first sign of darkness, Bragolaur called his thirty or so men to set up camp. After dismounting and arguing for several minutes, Marloch and Omarom agreed to tie Legolas to a tree on the edge of camp. They bound him tightly, and then went to help the rest of the men spread out and tie up the horses. Legolas had not moved since they had loaded him onto the back of the sorrel he had been riding—actually, he only knew the color of the horse's mane, as he had never been able to lift his head to see the rest of it. He was in excruciating pain. In fact, he was not even sure that he had ever felt much worse than he did right now. It was unbelievable to him that he was not already dead. It was also shocking that he could still feel hunger when he was so exhausted all he did was slump against the rope they had tied him with. He could only hope, for as long as was possible, they would leave him alone.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the brush around him move, but he knew there was less light than when they had first tied him. Gathering strength, and glad that he could thank Ilúvatar that whoever was coming was _not_ the very dead Dragsúl, he attempted to lift his head to see Vilyath standing a few feet before him.

In hindsight, he probably should have been kinder, but in his worsening condition, he did not even notice what she was carrying or how she was standing there. All he saw was another person come to badger him.

"Come to gloat?" he rasped, and she eyed him for a moment before she raised an eyebrow.

"I came with dinner…and water, actually. You are making me not wish to give it to you." It was a poorly voiced threat, and he could have cared less. He would be lucky to keep down whatever they gave him anyway.

"Where are your goons, come to beat me for every bite I take?" He coughed and then began choking, where she crouched down before him and loosened the rope that bound his chest to the tree trunk.

"Could they have made this any tighter?" she growled. "If they are not careful, there will be nothing left of you to trade to Thranduil."

He looked at her as he gathered his breath and saw bruising along her left cheek and surprisingly, finger-shaped bruises along her throat. Following down her arm with his eyes, he noticed she also had them along her arms, and as his eyes returned to her face, he watched her wince as she took a seat beside him. He waited; he could hardly speak as it was, and he needed water before he could carry on even a bit of conversation. Asking himself the difficult question—did he even care—did not even take a moment to answer. Yes, he cared. The more difficult question was _why_. That, he could have never answered for certain.

She gave him something to drink and then began feeding him the thick soup that someone had made for the group. It was the best soup Legolas had ever had in his mouth, thick and meaty…and he doubted it would ever taste this good again.

"Who dictated this duty to you?" he asked, burning his mouth on the broth. "How did you become trapped with it?"

"I asked for it," she admitted, and surprise struck him. The man who was hardly ever speechless was, in fact, speechless.

"Do not begin feeling guilty now…it is not the time for a conscience," he muttered, and he heard her chuckle at him.

"No, that will not happen," she murmured back.

"Then what for?" he asked. "Why have you come?"

"No one else would take the time to feed you," she said. "At this point you will starve and die without nourishment. You are ill."

He snorted. "You noticed. How kind." She fed him another bit of bread and then reached for the spoon for the stew again.

"You know, for someone who is being fed," she said, "you are awfully nasty." He could hear the irritation in her tone.

"I know," he replied. For some reason, he felt guilty; he, who had every reason to want to kill every person who had captured him; he, who was so full of sickness and pain… _he_ felt guilty? What a mess he was in. "Forgive me for being cruel to you," he told her softly. "I am sorry." She fed him another bite, and stared at him. There was no mistaking his tone.

"I…am sorry this has been done to you," she said, her voice low so Legolas would be the only one to hear her. "I...was wrong, and I lied when I told you I did not regret what happened. I thought you were being held for ransom; now, I worry they will take your life, even if they do not mean to. I have seen them kill in anger before."

"'They?'" Legolas asked, looking directly into her face. "Or he?" Vilyath had to turn her eyes away, unable to hold his a moment more. He found his eyes settling on her bruises again, and he could make a deduction on how she had attained them. It sickened him; disgusted him, how a man could abuse another person…even if she was willing. He waited a moment, a long pause, and then:

"What happened to your face?" She did not answer, but held up the spoon to his mouth. He took it, swallowed, and then said, "Is it a secret?" He had not mean for it to sound as though he was mocking her, but it had anyway.

"You were there," she stated, getting him some water. "Even lying on the floor half-alive, you saw. That happens sometimes…in anger."

"And your neck? Those as well?"

He saw her eyes darken and her face go crimson, but she let him drink anyway. "What the Lord does is his business, not yours. Do not worry for things that do not concern you." Her voice was stern, but he did not think she was angry.

"Is it not _your_ concern, I suppose?" She looked at him and he met her eyes. His voice softened. "How many more of those do you have? Are you injured?"

"You should not care."

She did not answer his question, but the words spoken out of her shock at his concern were telling enough. He could see she was sore; it was in the way she moved, the way she lifted her arm. This was not the Vilyath of three days before; this was not the fierce fighter, the woman who gave his every comment a nasty comeback…this was a woman who was being broken…slowly. And no matter what she had done to him, she did not deserve it. Legolas had heard stories of men who abused women, used them for physical love, for sex, and bled them dry…Bragolaur struck him as the type. He remembered his comments to her in the _Warg_ , remembered the elf's comment about the feeling of power, how he got his scars…and he was disgusted by the thought of all of it. Bragolaur had been using Vilyath, abusing her, and she _let_ him, waiting around each time until he had use for her again.

"Why do you let him do that to you?" he said gently. "You do not deserve it."

She turned her head away, unable to even bring herself to look at him. "He…can be a bit rough sometimes," came her hoarse whisper. "He does not mean to; he sometimes…forgets what he is…"

"No one could ever look at your face and think he was simply carried away," Legolas interrupted. "Vilyath, it is clear he likes to hurt; you should not let him do that to you. You should never even give him a chance. He will find something else he wants more…and then he will forget you. He is the lowest of the low…scum on the bottom of your feet. He is not worthy. Again, you should not let him."

She was silent for a moment and they were getting down to the bottom of the bowl. "This was a choice made long ago…there is no letting or not-letting; it simply is."

The soup was finished, and she could not very well sit and listen to him; the conversation was uncomfortable enough and now they were somewhere she did not wish to go, could not go. She stood immediately, turning her back on him. "The soup will help, I think," she said and Legolas lifted his head to follow her.

"Thank you." She walked away, and even in her walk he could tell she was uncomfortable. He was disgusted by what the world, what Bragolaur himself, had done to her. "Vilyath," he called and she glanced back over her shoulder, "we accept the love we think we deserve…but you are worth more than a thousand of him. Please…do not allow him to touch you any longer."

She stared at him a moment, and then she turned away, unable to reply as she moved off and left him in the darkness, alone again. He had done what he could. Legolas tilted his head to stare up into the sky, resting the back of his head against the bark as he tried to find the stars.

 _Enguina…Enguina…I miss you so…Ilúvatar, please…come for me…_


	20. Chapter 20

She had been nearly dozing on horseback before she came suddenly wide awake. At first, she thought Lómë had stumbled as he trotted along, but he seemed perfectly fine; Gimli, riding behind her had not called for her either. So what in the world had woken her?

Enguina realized that her chest felt… _strange_. Releasing the rein with one hand, she felt her chest, her heart, and found she was struggling to breathe. Fear wracked her, and she would have called for Gimli if she had not felt something. Felt? No… _heard_. Her heart burned within her, and she heard a voice inside her head…and that voice…it was _his_ voice.

She was so shocked that she nearly fell from the saddle rather than continue to two-point along and when she heard it again, she whispered his name as a prayer in her head. _Legolas. Legolas. Legolas, we are here beloved! I am coming for you!_

"G… _Gimli_!" she cried out suddenly, her hand still clutching her chest. At the sound of her startled voice, Lómë slowed to a walk. Gimli spurred Firgenwine in the sides to catch up to her and he turned to her, completely alarmed.

"Enguina, what is it, lass? Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I _heard_ him," she whispered, turning her head to look at him with tears in her eyes. "I heard his voice inside my head, asking for me, saying my name. I _heard_ him, Gimli. He is alive, for certain! _Alive_!"

Gimli stared at her. "You heard—? Legolas? He spoke to you? In your head?" The dwarf was confounded by her startling revelation, but he did not want to ignore it. Even with tears in her eyes, she was filled with certainty. It was the first time she had seemed alive herself in the last few days…and he wanted to believe that Legolas was well and that he _had_ spoken to her. He wanted _desperately_ to believe it.

"I _know_ it is impossible; I _know_ it!" she said as she wiped her face. "But I swear, I can almost feel his breath on my cheek, as if he were whispering it in my ear. Praise Ilúvatar, he is near! I _know_ it! They are close, so close! We are nearly there, Gimli!"

He laughed aloud. "I believe you, lass! I believe you! Let's pick up the pace and follow them, then, eh? Let's get there and get him out!"

Enguina's eyes danced forward and she suddenly noticed a faint, flickering light among the trees several miles to the west. She wondered at it for a moment, but she did not voice her thoughts to Gimli for fear that she was wrong. But they were downwind, so it took only a moment for the dwarf to smell what she was seeing.

"Do you smell that, Enguina?" he asked. "You're right! We've got to be close because that's—"

"A campfire!" she exclaimed with him, but her voice was still quiet. "I can see it to the west, a flickering in the trees. I am worried that our voices will carry in the stillness of this night.

"We've found them," he said in awe. "We've got them now, lass. We'll have Legolas back with us in a few hours at best." He grinned at her as they broke to a trot again; the horses reading their hurry. Through mud, storm, pouring rain, wargs, despair, and wounds…they had found him. A few more miles and they would travel the rest of the way on foot. Enguina and Gimli both thanked Ilúvatar a thousand times…and she looked up to the stars and prayed.

 _I am coming, love…do you know I am near? I am coming for you…I will be there soon._

* * *

 _No…no, please! D-d-d-don't! Stop!_

 _His hands were touching her naked body as she looked on from the brush. The scarred face of the man she hated was clearly visible to her; she knew who he was, and she knew what he was doing. There were whimpers, moans, heavy breathing…the awful sounds of inappropriate intimacy at an inappropriate time…with an audience of laughing onlookers._

 _Her anger, her rage boiled up inside her, got trapped somewhere before she exploded. Blonde hair, spread out against the coarse dirt, firelight making her nakedness clearly visible, and the way she was tied…hands over her head with her breasts thrusting upward sickeningly, her back bent over a rock, knees bent. Her stomach recoiled and the heat engulfed her as the Elvish bodies began to jerk and there was_ _ **screaming**_ …

Arwen sat up before she was even fully awake, the blanket falling from her shoulders, Aragorn's arm still across her waist. A scream tore out of her throat as she gripped her throbbing head, bile rising in her even as she turned aside, retching on the ground and gasping for breath. Aragorn rose almost instantly behind her, kneeling beside her. She was drenched with sweat, her tunic was soaked through as he laid a hand on her; her whole body was shaking.

 _What the_ _ **hell**_ _, Arwen?_

But he could not ask her that; not in her condition. He knew very well she had seen something, and it had been all sorts of awful. Luckily, she had nothing to eat earlier, so there was not much to come up. He reached over and picked up the waterskin.

"Drink this," he said quietly, pressing it into her hands. With one hand, he helped her drink, with the other, he checked her temperature. No…it had been a nightmare…or worse. She could only sip for a moment before she was gasping for breath again. "Breathe, Arwen…and talk to me."

" _Oh, god…_ " she whispered, dropping her face into her trembling hands. " _Please…Father, I beg you…do not let it be real!_ "

 _Vision…oh, Ilúvatar…_ "Arwen, talk to me, please…"

"It was her…and _him_ …and there was screaming and…and…he was…he was…" He took her in his arms at the sound of her anguished voice, soothing her quietly and rubbing her back. He knew very well what she was feeling; the last time she had a premonition it had been true. Was this as real?

"Last time, you did not know _who_ …this was more like a nightmare," he whispered. "Brought on by stress and exhaustion."

"Maybe it was not them…" she gasped, her voice pleading. "Maybe it was nothing; just a dream."

"Just a dream," he repeated, and she turned her head to look at him, her eyes haunted, desperate, tears and sweat covering her face. She saw her look reflected in his eyes; she knew very well it had not been a dream…and so did he.

"We should not have rested!" she cried and she dragged herself to her feet, Aragorn right behind her as she stumbled. "I should have pushed harder," she muttered, the grief and terror clear in her face. "My will should be stronger than my weariness!"

He was silent while they gathered their few things; talking to her now, trying to convince her of anything other than leaving was impossible. Eating on the road was their plan now. They had not been asleep even three hours, but the horses seemed rested well-enough. Aragorn began tacking Brego back up and just as he finished he heard Arwen curse.

He moved quickly to her side, and saw her holding the wrist she had snapped back; Asfaloth's saddle had made it on his back, but he shook his head. Reaching over, he caught her arm in his hand. "Arwen, stop this."

"I _cannot_!" she cried, panicked. "We _have_ to get moving and I—"

"You are not to blame for this," he told her. "Take it easy; you are going to hurt yourself even worse. You need to calm down. We will reach them; we _will._ " Their eyes met, both burning with hidden fire, a passion for their loved ones, a drive to reach them and rescue them from the imminent danger.

"I…my will should be—"

"It is, or you would not even be here. Stop blaming yourself," he said a bit more sternly than he would have liked. He finished cinching the saddle and continued, "One cannot hope to stem a flood of exhaustion by will alone."

 _"You_ have," she said stubbornly and he sighed. Asfaloth snorted, a laugh, and Aragorn punched him in the shoulder. "You hit him because he knows I am right."

"Arwen—"

"I do not want to speak of it anymore," she said tiredly. "Please, let us just be gone already. It is not soon enough. I want to be there to stop them _right now_. I _need_ to be there. To reach out my hand, close it to a fist, and _crush them all_. I want to stop them, Aragorn."

"I promise we will," he told her, putting all of the weight of his compassion and peace behind it. He moved away to mount and she stood beside Asfaloth for a moment. In her head, she knew that it was quite silly, even foolish for him to promise such a thing, but just the sound of it soothed her heart. She knew it was wrong to desire to teach Bragolaur a serious lesson, to desire his death—but it _was_ what she wanted. She wanted the bastard to _die_ , and her hands and jaw clenched as she thought about it, her nails digging into her palms. Trying to push the feeling aside to tie her bedroll back to the saddle seemed almost impossible, but when she turned, she saw Aragorn beside her astride Brego and ready to go. She looked up at him, noticed him rubbing his brow.

"You are very nearly shouting," he said to her, raising his eyebrow.

She looked guilty for a moment. "I am so _angry_. I have never felt this way about anyone before, Aragorn; not in my entire life have I ever wished for someone's death. It is wrong; so wrong." She mounted swiftly and looked at him. "And I am so sorry for my bad temper; I have been so tired and angry the last few days and I…" she shook her head, unable to finish.

"We are both on edge," he told her, and he bumped Brego even closer to Asfaloth so that he could reach out and draw her close for a moment, resting his forehead against hers after the kiss so that their noses touched.

"How can you love me when I am like this?" she asked, a laugh nearly on her lips, but he felt her reach up and wipe her cheek. "I feel like my life has been a stormy sea for the past five months."

"It has," he whispered. "But it is going to get better."

"It is going to get worse first," she whispered. "Perhaps life will be better _after_ the wedding."

"It will."

"Is that a promise?"

"I will make it so," he told her, and kissed her again. They released one another, and then they were off, both of them praying fervently in their hearts that they would not be too late.

* * *

It was half-an-hour's ride to a place where they could leave their horses and travel the rest of the way to the campfire on foot. When they dismounted, Enguina and Gimli only took the provisions they thought they could not do without—weapons and healing remedies. Gimli had every axe he could carry, throwing, walking, and his double-edged axe that he now carried, ready for battle. Enguina had taken Legolas's lone white knife and as many arrows as she could fit in her quiver without having them trapped inside it. Her bow was fit and ready, and so were they. Both of them were ready to fight for Legolas, to take him back no matter what. They had spoken softly to the horses, explaining to them that they would return for them and that they needed to remain behind. Neither one was happy with the arrangement, but silence and stealth were necessary.

It was in this moving forward and secrecy that Enguina realized how loud dwarves could be without meaning to. She could hear his every breath, every branch breaking and leaf cracking under his boots, every swish of fabric and creak of leather at his chest. Her movements, on the contrary, were as silent and stealthy as a stalking lion, and being able to hear his every move was not helping her focus. She wanted him to be _quiet_ ; what if the enemy heard them coming?

It was so difficult for her to think of anything else but getting to Legolas, her heart racing so fast that her chest ached with longing. Her mind was filled with plans for freeing him, possible escape routes through the woods, numerous defense tactics to neutralize opponents. But there was nothing in her head or her heart that compared with the desire to see him again, to hold his face in her hands, to tell him she loved him. She never even thought this might not be the right camp; Ilúvatar had led her right to them; Legolas was alive. Involuntarily, she was moving forward faster, and she heard Gimli's pace quicken as they drew nearer. _This_ was when she needed to be quiet, yet her racing heart was driving her.

She tried to force herself into the calm at her center, to reach out to Eru for peace. _Father! Legolas is near—I can almost feel him! Please, calm my racing heart! Help me to do what I must to save him. You have brought us this far in safety, and I pray that you will keep us safe the rest of this night. Help us to find him, to rescue him; Gimli and I are your servants, oh Rock Eternal! Sustainer, guide us so that we might bring Legolas home…and that I will be reunited with him once more._

It was completely impossible for her not to close her eyes and imagine herself in his warm arms again. He was her shelter, her rock…and she suddenly realized that since he had been taken, she had not had a single nightmare. She had been so focused on finding him that she had not had the time to worry about herself. Their wedding was in a month… _a month_ and then they would be together forever; belonging to each other. She _wanted_ that…she wanted to belong to Legolas, to look into his beautiful eyes and pledge herself to be his wife, to see the sincerity and devotion that was the core of his strength, to see the love that he held in his soul for her. She wanted to give that love back, and again she prayed that she would have all the time in the world to tell him. To love him for the rest of time would be the greatest gift that Ilúvatar had ever given her.

The dwarf beside her knew he was making far too much noise, but there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way possible to make himself as quiet as the elf, who he could only see in front of him, not hear. Gimli kept glancing from left to right to see if there were elves awaiting an ambush, if they had heard him coming, but he saw nothing. He could only hope against hope that they were all dead asleep and they would not be discovered, unlike their travels in Lórien. He could not help thinking of Enguina's brother then or his words about his breathing. And this led him to thinking of Legolas…

The elf was his best friend of so many years; he felt as though he had known him forever. Their camaraderie had no equal; they had suffered through terrible times and rejoiced in the good, and there were many journeys they had shared. Nothing mattered more in Middle Earth to Gimli than the Elf… _nothing_ , and nothing ever would. He could not explain how he knew that; he just did. And Enguina, because she was to be his wife, was now held in the same high regard. He would give his life for them; he might very well have to tonight. But he was ready for that sacrifice if it was called for by Eru. Looking on Enguina from behind, he realized that nothing mattered more to him at this moment than seeing them together again, reuniting them. He would see to it, even if it cost him his life.

Their thoughts left them as they drew near to the campfire; there was quiet laughter by a small group of men by the fire who were clearly the intended to keep watch. There were numerous bedrolls with sleeping forms in them; even Enguina's sharp eyes could not tell if they were men or elves. Gimli nudged her shoulder as they crouched behind some brush and he pointed towards the horses.

"They number at least thirty. There are several pack horses."

She nodded, but she did not look over. Enguina did not have eyes for anything except searching for Legolas. Ignoring the men, ignoring the laughter, she searched for a bound captive. Gimli began scanning as well, trying to plan which men they might have to take out first. The campfire light cast eerie shadows on the trees, but Enguina felt it was rather perfect, for the shadows would still conceal them. And it was then her eyes caught on a figure tied to a tree.

" _There,_ " she whispered breathlessly, and their eyes fell upon him together.

Being the first time she had laid eyes on him since that morning in Henneth Annûn, she was struck mute by his condition. It was the same delicate face they remembered, but his handsome face was bloodied, eyes and cheek swollen, ears battered. His perfect posture was gone; he was slumped against the ropes, his head hanging off to the side. His tunic and leggings were soaked with blood in some places—his hip, side, shoulder, left knee, the outside of his right thigh. His face was drawn and pale, and he had lost weight. It was very clear that he was ill, and even at this distance she could hear him cough and his breathing was heavy. His head hung low to his chest now, his tunic torn, his body tied tightly to the tree. It was the fresh blood dripping from a head wound onto his tunic that brought Gimli ready to roar and spring from his hiding place. He would have killed every one of them with one stroke if it would have been possible, if he had the power.

All Enguina could think of was to run to him; upon seeing his face, it was only the two of them alone in the woods. Her Legolas, bloodied, battered, and bruised beyond description. Her promised one, the center of her new world…this would not go on with him, it would _not!_ It was unbearable for her, and then…Marloch appeared beside him from around the back of the tree, and it was clear with his bloodied fist where the fresh wound on Legolas's head had come from.

"Hey Elvish Princeling," he laughed, "come and have a go. You gonna fight back, or what?" Clearly, the man was a bit drunk, and Legolas was not inclined to respond. The man snatched Legolas's head in his hand by his hair and dragged it back against the tree, yanking his shoulder wound. The elf grimaced, but still made no reply. A low growl began in Enguina's throat, but it was the jab to the chest from Marloch's knee that made her lose her mind. There was no plan of attack, and any thought to injuries from the warg went completely unthought-of; the only plan was to reach Legolas— _right now._ Losing his breath, Legolas began to choke, and he never heard the sound of her scream as she leapt from the bushes and cut down the first two men that stood between her and that tree, the first with an arrow that she had loosed, the second when she wrapped the bow around his neck and yanked upward, crushing his windpipe. She leapt over his falling body as she took to the next elf, aiming with her bow.

It only took Gimli half-a-moment to join her, taking out two by the fire on his way over there with his throwing axes, hollering like an army of dwarves and throwing as though he did not even need to aim. He swung his axe up and over his shoulder and then across his body, taking off the head of another man seated there, the other across the midsection as he tried to rise. Drawing his throwing axes from the dead bodies, he flung them at two others who were on their way towards him; one fell back with an axe in his forehead, the other in his heart. Gimli waded into the nearest set of soldiers, swinging left and right with his double-edged axe, hacking and hewing and spewing gore everywhere all over the ground, and all the while screaming Legolas's name as a battle-cry.

Enguina lunged over another fallen body as all hell broke loose in the camp; even she knew they were severely outnumbered. They needed to free Legolas and escape with him, not start a war. Some of the men began to run back from Gimli—an axe-wielding maniac they were shouting—and she advanced towards the tree.

"What the _hell_ —" Marloch began, staring at her blazing eyes and vicious sneer as she knocked an arrow in her bow and loosed it into his heart. Their aim had become positively deadly, and there was no way that someone three feet in front of her was going to survive. He dropped to the ground with a gurgle, she hurtled his body, and leapt to Legolas's side.

" _Ai, meleth nîn_!" she cried aloud, wishing she could wrap her arms around him but knowing that would hurt him. Instead, she dropped her bow in the dirt beside him and cradled his face within her cupped hands, planting gentle kisses along his brow.

It could be no one other than she…no one other than Enguina, and his heart leaped inside of him, finally controlling his cough and pressing down the pain in his chest that made him nearly delirious. " _Moina quen_ ," he whispered. "Is it really you?" He opened his eyes amidst all of the bruising, and they were still the bluest of blue…and she cried.

"I am here! We have come for you!" This rope was clearly of Elvish make and could not be cut, so she began untying the knots. "Hold on, love," she cried, blinking back blurry vision so that she might work faster. Her body suddenly jerked into him and her breath left her in a huff before she pulled back, pain on her face.

"Guin!" he said, his voice full of concern as he strained suddenly against the ropes to get out, trying to undo them the rest of the way. Enguina half-turned from him and raised her bow, firing arrow bursts at the two elves who were standing nearby. One fell, the other turned away and fell directly into Gimli's axe blade.

"It is all right," she said, struggling to make the fingers on her left hand work. "It will be fine. Just give me two seconds and—"

Legolas was terrified. There were too many of them, and she was out of time. He began to say her name again and an arrow lodged itself in the bark of the tree between his arm and where she knelt. As she worked even faster now, turning herself away, he could clearly see the arrow protruding from her left shoulder.

"Guin, no! You have to get out of here!" he said urgently. "Please!"

"I am _not_ leaving without you," she whispered, her fingers working frantically now on the knots.

Behind her, three men were taking on Gimli in hand-to-hand combat, simply whaling on each other with fists and elbows, even teeth as they lunged at each other. Gimli's axe had long been knocked from his hand, but he continued to fight; even when two of the men jumped on his back, he continued to pummel the third until his face was an unrecognizable bloody pulp. Finally, they subdued him, forcing him to the ground and binding him up.

"Guin—Enguina!" Legolas hollered in her ear to alert her, but it was too late. If she had turned around at the start of her name, perhaps she would have been able to knock them back. As it was, Omarom grabbed her left arm and wrenched her around, grabbing the arrow and pressing it deeper into her flesh. Gasping, she swung around at him with a free hand—that was caught by another elf and wrenched back. Throwing her weight back at him, she hit him in the face with her fist, entirely by accident but completely effective, as he lost his grip on her. She tried to yank away from Omarom, but he twisted her hand behind her back and grabbed her elbow. Recognizing the hold, she had no choice but to settle down for a moment as the pain was excruciating, leaving a burning trail down her shoulder, arm, and into her back as well. She was wincing in pain, very nearly groaning.

"Stop! Stop it!" Legolas yelled aloud, hating to see her in pain. Behind Omarom and across the camp, he could see several men taking turns hitting an unconscious Gimli. " _Stop_ , Omarom! They are neutralized! _Stop!_ "

"What in the name of _heaven_ —" began Vilyath who just burst through the brush, hair soaking wet. It took her half-a-moment of disbelief to register what had happened in the camp while she had been bathing. Seeing so many dead and a dwarf on the ground, it was clear there had been an attack on the camp. "Sons of Morgoth!" she swore, shocked, "I thought they were dead!"

"We should never underestimate the power of friendship," came that cool, haunting voice from beside the dwarf. Legolas lifted his head and stared at Bragolaur angrily, as he brought his fist down against Gimli's face again.

" _Stop!_ " he yelled. Bragolaur raised his head and began walking towards Legolas.

"Of course, my _liege_ …whatever you demand," he said snidely, and then he noticed Omarom's captive. "What do we have here?"

It was those softly spoken words of intrigue that broke through the fog of Enguina's pain and tightened like a noose around her heart. _Oh god...oh god...pleasepleaseplease have mercy! Have mercy!_ There was no way…there was no way possible…in all the realms of heaven and earth and hell…that it could be…that it was _possible_ …that the voice she heard was…that she could have fallen unconscious into such a nightmare…that she could be returned to her own personal _hell_ …

She had been struggling slightly, but now, all struggling had ceased. She was shaking from head to toe, trembling with fear, struck dumb by the sudden appearance of the very thing that had haunted her every step for nearly fifty years. Unable to move away, her breathing quickened, her knees began to give way and the pressure on her elbow and injured shoulder increased ten-fold. Her heart raced within her and she found that no amount of breath in her lungs was enough.

" _Can it be_?" Bragolaur asked, and he leaned over to brush the hair from her face.

Just the brush of his fingers along the skin of her forehead lit her up; fire swept through her body from head to toe, washing her in absolute terror. And when he moved her hair, it was far too easy to meet his eyes and get lost in the disgust of his hideous face. It was nothing like the handsome elf she had remembered in her nightmares; the deception of Bragolaur had always been in his good looks, which hid a far more sinister personality. No, when she turned, she could not keep the disgust from her face as her eyes were trapped around the grotesque scarring on his face from cheek to chin. But no matter how different he appeared, there was nothing she could do to stem the flood of memories and anguish she had suffered at his hands. She struggled with retching, her stomach roiling in sheer panic. What could she do? How could she get away? She needed to _run_ … _right now_ …but her knees were not functioning and Omarom still held her elbow. There was nothing she could do...

 _Oh god! Deliver me!_

"It _is_ you," Bragolaur said in utter disbelief, staring at her sweaty features, seeing the terror plain in her eyes. He dragged his fingers lazily now along her forehead, seeing how frozen she was. "I would never believe it if I had not seen you with my own eyes."

"Stop touching her!" Legolas shouted, throwing himself against his bounds and growling. "Get away from her! _Guin!_ "

It was this word from Legolas, her name, the name _he_ had given her, that shook her out of her absolute terror so that she could react to the stroking of his fingers on her face. She revolted, wrenching away from him…and nearly tearing her shoulder out of the socket at the same time.

"S-s-stop!" she whispered, barely able to breathe, gasping between the pain and the sickness in the pit of her stomach, but she could not stop trying to pull away.

"I have a remedy for your fidgeting," he said nastily, and dropping his hand behind her shoulder, he wrapped his hand around the shaft of the arrow and twisted it in the wound. The pain drove her to her knees, Omarom releasing her elbow as she screamed, and she heard other screaming mixed with hers.

" _Noooo!_ " Legolas shouted, but pleadingly, wrenching forward against his restraints. " _Stop it, please! Have you no mercy?!_ "

" _Ah, please...stop,_ " she gasped, her breath catching, tears forming in her eyes. She could hardly breathe for the pain.

"Stop?" he questioned. "Why? Consider it payment for murdering my men."

"And what about your payment for taking me?" Legolas snapped. "When will _you_ pay for that?"

Bragolaur turned towards Legolas and stared at him, watching as he strained forward, trying to reach the gasping elf that knelt on the ground at his feet. He gave him a very wicked smile. Then, looking over his shoulder, he called to another of his men and nodded toward the dwarf, "Tie up that filth."

"Do not touch her again," Legolas insisted. "Leave her alone!"

Bragolaur turned back to Enguina, ignoring Legolas's shouts, and rotated the head of the arrow a little bit more. She tried to hold her breath. "You think that you can just walk in here, you and that miserable dwarf, and do whatever you like? I _need_ him, and you cannot have him back, fair love—"

Her head snapped up as a shudder ran through her, and with gritted teeth she hissed, pain in her eyes, "Do _not_ call me that!"

He grabbed her chin and pulled out the arrow with the other hand. She cried out, and he leaned close into her ear and whispered nastily, "You are _mine_. You have always _been_ mine, and I will do with you what I please and say whatever I desire." He made sure that only she could hear him. She shuddered as he released her chin, and Omarom reached over and grabbed her shoulder so she could not run from them, keeping her on her knees. She could not take her eyes from him, even though she was terrified, and she more felt than noticed how his eyes roamed down over her body, stopping at her breasts. She could have whimpered in terror, so great was her sudden despair—Legolas remained tied, Gimli was unconscious, and she…she had never thought to be in this place, with this evil again.

Legolas had been straining to hear what was said, but he could not. All he knew was that something in the dynamic had changed; there was something in Enguina's face that worried him...that reminded him of her nightmares. Her chest was moving as though she could not catch her breath, as if she were in a panic; he wondered if she was thinking back to her capture a few months before. He did not know if he could help her, give her peace; she was staring up into Bragolaur's face with fear written on hers, unable to look away. " _Guin_ …" he called softly, "Guin, look at me."

She lowered her head and looked to Legolas, trying to stabilize her fear with his gentleness. For the first time, Bragolaur listened to what Legolas was saying, and he turned with surprise to look into the Prince's battered face as two of his men flanked either side of him. "'Guin?'" he quoted. Then he glanced back to Enguina kneeling at his feet as she stared through him, looking towards Legolas like a light in a raging storm. The scarred elf burst into wild laughter and the rest of the camp fell silent in surprise. "Oh no, this is too much! Tell me the truth; tell me the two of you are _lovers._ Ugh, that disgusts—" He glanced down into Enguina's face and suddenly caught sight of her left hand, his bloodshot eyes widening even further. "You cannot be serious! Enguina, you are to be _wed_ to _this_?"

"Shut your filthy mouth," she growled out, the anger in her heart festering so near the surface she could hardly prevent it.

He laughed again. "You are going to tell _me_ what to do? I cannot believe that _you_ , of the Wood Elves of Lórien, are going to marry refuse from Mirkwood!"

"You do not know him! Stop it! Look what you have done to him!" she cried, furious at his condition. Her fury overrode her fear and she lashed out. "You _bastard!_ He is wounded, bleeding, and tied to a tree, and you stand there and belittle him!"

"I will do worse," Bragolaur sneered, and he leaned back and made a quick jab into Legolas's side; the wound immediately began to bleed freely, and Legolas jarred against the ropes while Enguina cursed at Bragolaur. He laughed and raised an eyebrow at her. "My…temper, temper. Your father would be shocked at your language."

Lifting his head, Legolas began coughing but forced out, "You have spilled her blood…and I will kill you for it…stop it _now_ …and perhaps I will let you live…"

The elf turned back to him and caught him square in the forehead with the hilt of his sword. Legolas dropped forward, hanging in the ropes and Enguina began screaming. " _Son of Morgoth! I hope you rot in_ _ **hell**_ _for what you have done to him! Poisonous monster! Hideous beast! You are the Spawn of Melkor himself who—"_

Anger glinted in his eyes as he whirled back to her, grabbing her chin in an iron grip, the very same one that had nearly broken her arm so many years ago. She could almost feel her jaw cracking, and she could not help but stare into his eyes. "Stop spitting out your sentiments! Enough. You will silence yourself, or you will suffer the same as him, fair love." He released her and stepped away for a moment, turning to face his men.

"You will hear my words whether you want them or not! I will _not_ be silent! You will suffer for what you have done to him, for making him ill, wounding him. When I am free," she snarled, " _I will hammer your head and the heads of your men, and I will not stop until every last one of you is broken and the soil turns red with your—_ "

There was a sharp crack and Bragolaur whirled back around to watch as Enguina dropped forward against the ground, unconscious herself. Behind her, one of the Gondorian men stood with his shield in hand. He sighed. "Finally, some _quiet_ ," he laughed.

Suddenly, the same man found himself unable to breathe, a dagger plunged into his throat. As the man fell back, gurgling, Omarom stared around, searching for the attacker. His eyes came to rest, however, on Bragolaur who stood with fury written in every line of his face. He stared around at his men, snarling, "If any one of you so much as touches her again without my permission, you will suffer the same death. Do you understand?" There were numerous nods, and Bragolaur looked to Omarom. "Tie her up over there; just bind her hands. The rest of you…begin cleaning up camp. The bodies of our comrades need to be taken care of. When that is finished, get some rest. We need to be ready near dawn for our next ride, and it has been a long night." He caught Omarom's arm as the elf picked her up. "Wake me if she wakes."

As Omarom moved away with Bragolaur's new prize, it was Vilyath who stood nearby, watching everyone standing about get back to work. Because of the elf and dwarf, there were only eighteen men left in the camp; many of their men had died battling them. But it was Legolas and Bragolaur who consumed her thoughts. Legolas continued to show resilience, even though he should be dying at this moment. And who was this woman who had come to rescue him? There was something in the way Bragolaur looked at this elf; might she be an old lover? That did not matter…what should matter was that he had not acknowledged her or spoken to her since he had recognized the other woman. She was not sure where this whole ordeal was headed…but none of it seemed to be for good. Worry was taking her; could everything they had worked so hard for come crashing down, now when they were so close? She did not know, but she _did_ have a job to do as well as everyone else.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: The song used in this chapter is "Never Let Go" by Matt Redman. I didn't write it, nor do I own it! :O)

* * *

The last few miles toward Londeglai had been difficult to cover. The terrain was rocky, with trees and branches down in many places from the raging storm they had ridden through. The only good that it had brought was fresh grass that the horses were thrilled to be able to grab a bite of as they moved onward. The sun would not be up for several hours yet, and so as they loped up a small rise, Aragorn and Arwen drew to a halt. The sight of Londeglai, even in such a state, was a welcome sight.

"Praise Ilúvatar," she murmured, staring down at the miserable place. "This is the place Soronar spoke to you about?"

Aragorn nodded. "Not much of a sight, but we should be able to easily find out more information here. We do not have long to spare, but it will have to do." His eyes fixed on each building, but there were no people that could be seen at this distance. This was an evil place, and though he had not spoken his fears to Arwen, he truly did not want her to get anywhere near it. A man was less inconspicuous to ride into town, particularly since he was used to wandering in the Wilds…looking as filthy as any stained traveler who had been wandering for days. But Arwen…she was an elf with regal bearing. A woman who spoke softly and carefully no matter what role she played. What she needed was to either remain behind, or be so disguised that none would recognize her. Though news traveled fast in Middle Earth, he knew that they would not recognize them so much as to think they were the King and Queen of Gondor. However, it would be too strange for a man and an elven woman to travel to a town such as this in the middle of nowhere…especially when that woman looked like Arwen. Of course…there was one possibility for that scenario…

She finally saw him eyeing her and turned to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. "I see that look on your face…and I cannot imagine what is going through your mind. Tell me what you are thinking."

He laughed suddenly. "That you need a disguise," he replied. Indicating his own clothing, he said, "No one shall look at me twice, Arwen, but you? No matter how muddy your boots or how filthy your clothes, you would still be a beautiful elvish woman…and every man in this village is going to be looking at you." He gave another laugh. "Perhaps you should stay here."

She nudged Asfaloth closer to Brego and rested a hand on his leg. "Do women never travel with men in Middle Earth?"

"Well…" he said, and then he gave her a funny look, one that she could not discern, "they do if they…well…" He gave a sigh at the amused look on her face. "What I mean to say is that a woman like you would _never_ be found with a ruffian like me unless you were my lover…or my slave."

She made a face. "Sometimes the world disgusts me. What if I draw my hood and stay near the horses? I am not allowing you to go down there alone."

"Arwen…have you ever been in a town of men before?"

"Bree," she stated, and met his eyes evenly, "and Minas Tirith, Osgiliath, Edoras, and many towns in the Westfold. I am versed well-enough in the world, Aragorn." She ended dryly, "One only needs to walk into a few dank places in Minas Tirith to know how the lives of men can become…indecent."

"Yet you have never been to a town as this one, have you?"

She shook her head and sighed. "No, Aragorn, but I am willing to follow where you lead me, and do whatever you ask."

"Whatever—?"

She raised a hand. "Except that I will not remain on this hill to wait for you." She poked him in the chest. " _That_ you can wipe from your mind altogether." He sighed, and resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to win there at all.

He drew up his own hood and watched her do the same. "Come down, and we will see what remains to be seen." He looked a bit tense, and her hand made its way to Hadhafang's sheath. He nodded. "Good. You should be ready to use it at any moment."

At a trot, they had arrived inside the town in minutes and began making their way through it. There were few establishments that looked like anything other than temporary housing, but it was quick work and keen eyes that rapidly found the _Warg's Prey_ on the edge of the murky well at the center of 'town.' Aragorn assumed that if there would be a place with information for them, it would be this inn. Soronar had mentioned it briefly as a place where many of the men would gather, but they had seen no one thus far; all shutters were closed and there were no sounds. No other living souls were present aside from several tied horses, so obviously Bragolaur and his men were gone. Aragorn dismounted in front of the establishment, followed shortly by Arwen.

Handing her Brego's rein, he nodded to her. "I am going inside to get a drink," he said casually. "Water the horses, _lissa_ _quen_."

She raised an eyebrow at the endearment she had never heard him use, but she figured that if anyone was watching, at least they would think that was all she was to him. She _hated_ the idea of waiting for him outside, knowing that anything could happen in there…or out here for that matter. But she was not about to argue with him, and she knew he had certain skills that she knew nothing about…and she would be severely out of place in a tavern.

"If that would please you," was her reply, and he nodded to her.

"It would indeed. Wait here; I shall only be a moment." As he turned, his demeanor changed; no more the King of Gondor, his steps were as they had been when she remembered him as a wanderer, a Ranger. It was as though he had immediately become Strider once more; it pleased her to see him so at ease. Telling herself not to worry as Aragorn opened the door of _Warg's Prey_ , she turned Brego and Asfaloth towards the trough.

As Aragorn moved through the front door of the dilapidated _Warg's Prey_ , he wondered _himself_ if it had been such a good idea to leave Arwen outside alone. As soon as he saw the inside of this place, however, his entire attitude on that changed. It was as filthy of a mess as it had been the day Legolas had seen the inside of it, though Aragorn knew nothing of that. He had a vague flash of the memory of sitting in Butterbur's _Prancing Pony_ , and thought briefly that the man would be insulted to see an inn treated so poorly. Even if he was a wayward traveler, he knew he would never purchase anything from an establishment that looked like this…unless of course, one wanted to speak with the bartender for some information…or dying of thirst.

So naturally, Aragorn made his way toward the bar. There were three men other than the bartender and himself inside the inn, and one rather scarlet-looking woman. One man sat in the far back corner as Aragorn would have at one time when he wanted to be invisible and undisturbed, watching for others entering the inn. However, this man was not looking for anyone, considering he was drunk and half asleep. The other two men were sitting in chairs at a round table, laughing rather raucously and they were flirting with the woman in a rather coarse and vulgar manner. She, though, obviously at work, was enjoying herself…his glance about the room read all of this as he continued to walk toward the bar. He even noticed the look she gave him: one of calculating interest. Her eyebrows raised; he had certainly sparked her curiosity.

Aragorn ignored that, of course; he had seen one too many men ensnared by these cunning women, and he had no intention of acknowledging her look to gain her favor. He left his hood up as he approached the bar, laying a hand on its alcohol stained surface and leaning casually against it. The bartender, the innkeeper, turned to him and eyed him up. Naturally, he could not see the stranger's face, but Aragorn could certainly see his. _I almost do not believe it_. He was surprised to notice that he knew this man; his name was in fact Léodfast, a shepherd of Rohan, or at least he had been at one time. Aragorn remembered him very well, for he had met him as he wandered. He was not a pleasant man, more so he was afraid to do anything that was against the will of whoever was with him at the time. Aragorn had wondered why such a man had been tending sheep, but he had found out only too well how dangerous the man had been for he had killed his wife and children, and then later escaped. What he was doing here, Aragorn did not know, nor did he care. What he wanted was information, and if he remembered the man well enough, he should have no trouble in acquiring it.

"Well, what can I get for you?" Léodfast asked with a little clearing of his hoarse throat. The man sounded as though he had breathed in far too much smoke for the last thirty years of his life, and Aragorn was pretty sure that was fairly accurate.

"Ale," he said in a casual voice, and he could tell that Léodfast was trying to place him. Instead, he seemed to shrug off the thought that he knew him from somewhere and reached to grab a flagon for some ale. The man set it on the bar and Aragorn picked up the mug. As foul as it looked, nothing could have been more revolting than its flavor. The stranger had never had worse ale in his entire life, and he set it down on the bar immediately. "Where do you get this scum?" he asked incredulously, tossing his head gently towards the door. "I could get better from that muck you call a pond out back."

Léodfast raised his eyebrows at him. "Oh yeah? You used to better stuff, stranger?" He narrowed his eyes at him. "What brings you out here anyway; how'd you find this place?"

Aragorn leaned over the bar towards him. "Information," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "and you do not wish to know how I found you." He did not care if those in the tavern heard him or not; he had nothing to hide from them. Léodfast looked into Aragorn's face and did not recognize it. Many years had changed it, weathering it from such wandering and battles…but those eyes he would never forget. Those were the eyes of the man who screamed after him as he ran from his house, telling him that one day he would find him, that they would meet again. He saw his entire life flash before his eyes.

Aragorn watched and could barely keep the smile off his face as the man went from a questioning red to a pale and sickly white. The man was completely terrified, and Aragorn remembered his own promise quite well. He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Léodfast's shirt, dragging the hefty man half over the bar.

" _You!_ " the Rohirric man breathed, staring into his eyes as the hood fell back. " _Thorongil!_ "

"Frightened?" he asked softly, his eyes suddenly blazing. He wished that he _could_ deal out judgment on this man, but he was not here for that. The man lived a solitary life, a cursed life nowhere near the happiness he had known when he had his wife and children. That made Aragorn angry, but his punishment had been dealt with by Eru. If this was his fate, let him be. Still, Aragorn could use his fear to his advantage.

"Please…please don't kill me!" he whimpered softly, their talk still not drawing any looks from the other patrons in the bar.

Aragorn glared at him. "I _might_ spare you," he said quite nastily, his tone low and cold, "if you give me answers to everything I ask you about the elf, Bragolaur."

A terrified look came over Léodfast's face. "I don't know anything, honest!"

Aragorn swiftly yanked the man against the bar, knocking over the mug of putrid ale on him, staining the bar and the man's shirt. "You know a great deal," he hissed, "and you will tell me all of it… _right now_."

The man began to shake. "He'll kill me if I tell you!"

"What pledge do you hold to him?" he asked, lowering the man's feet a little towards the floor. "Trust me when I say this, you stinking rat, you will never see him again. As soon as I find him, he will _not_ be coming back."

"B-b-bbut his men—"

"You will never see them again either," he stated, his eyes like daggers as he dragged him close to him again. " _Now tell me what I want to know_ ," he snapped. "Has the elf been here?"

Léodfast whimpered, but answered, "He'd been here two days before his horde arrived; from somewhere near Gondor, I thought I heard 'em say. It's not even been a day yet since he's been gone; he left late yesterday morning."

"How many were with him?"

He shrugged, still shaking. "I don't know. He always had an elvish woman with him, and there were at least ten in the company that arrived with her."

"Was there anyone else that you saw?" Aragorn found it hard to believe that Bragolaur traveled with only ten men.

"N-no, Thorongil," he said quickly, "those were his men. There was a captive they brought…an elf in bad shape. I know they'd been beatin' him, and they beat him more when they arrived." _Legolas…_

"Where did they take him?"

"Bragolaur was meetin' up with some of his men at a camp about four days ride from Mirkwood—"

"What did he say they were going to do there?"

"Meet before they sent out messengers to Thranduil that they had his son and wanted his land. They only said that they'd regroup there. They were in a pretty big hurry."

Aragorn lowered him a little towards the floor so that the man's toes were touching; still the grip on his tunic was like the black stone of Isengard, a grip that would not be shattered until the truth was heard. "You know an awful lot for someone who said they did not know a thing." As Aragorn spoke the man tried to reach behind the bar. " _Put your hands where I can see them_ ," he barked and the man bring them up immediately. "Now, which direction."

"S—"

" _Do not lie!_ " Aragorn snapped, shaking the man as though he was a leaf of hay as he cried out in terror. "You ought to remember that I _know_ when you lie."

"West, west," the man began to sob, "they went west!"

"Good," Aragorn said stiffly, and he hardened his heart against feeling any sort of pity for this sniveling man. In any case, he was only using empty threats, for he had no intention of taking the man's life. "Did he speak to the elf when they arrived?"

"Y-yes!"

"What did they say?" he asked, trying to be patient.

"Th-th-they sa-said—"

"Control yourself and speak quickly!"

The Rohirric man seemed to pull it together. "They talked about their journey, and then they had a fight upstairs. A big man was killed, thrown out the second story window! They left that morning, _yesterday_ …they're gone! Go after them! Leave me alone!"

"I have one last question," he said quietly, and Léodfast looked at him, sweat running down his face. "Does he know that he is being followed…tracked?"

The man shuddered and began to shake his head, but as Aragorn's eyes blazed he cried out again and started to sob anew. "He knew that a man was dead; the man they killed when catching the elf! The elf said that his friends would come and that he shouldn't underestimate them, but Bragolaur wouldn't listen. The elf said that he'd understand when they arrived. They talked about a warg attack that had happened a few days before…and the elf said that he didn't believe they were dead, that they couldn't be." _It must be Enguina and Gimli_ ; _they sent wargs after them?_

"But they did not know at the time? They were not sure?"

"No, no!" Léodfast cried. "They didn't know if they were alive or dead, but no one can withstand Girith…" he shuddered again. "None can survive."

"You would be surprised what men can survive with their will," Aragorn mumbled, and brought Léodfast's face forward toward his. The man cringed, shrinking back from him and closing his eyes tightly. "Why are you so frightened? I _always_ keep my word, and my word was that I would not harm you. You are free to go; you have been most helpful." He set the man on his own two feet, but as soon as he released him, Léodfast dropped straight to his knees, his legs shaking too badly to hold him.

Aragorn could not help but think he was pathetic as he tossed a coin on the bar. "For the rancid scum you gave me to drink," he muttered, and turned his back on the man, hoping he would never have to set eyes on him again. Shaking his head in disgust, he made for the door, and then suddenly found himself running, hearing the clash of metal on metal from _outside_.

It took him half a second to reach the doorframe and nearly tear the door from its hinges to open it. The door flung open, revealing a rearing and screaming Brego directly in front of the door. His feet struck out at a man grabbing at his reins; initially, Aragorn thought the man might have been laughing, but in another second, Brego's hooves clubbed down and he was on the ground screaming. The horse was snorting and stomping, his body covered with lather, but Aragorn was not worried. He knew the animal could defend himself. Instead, he ran around him to find her, his eyes scanning faster than he believed they could… _Arwen!_

There were three bodies on the ground on the other side of Brego, and Aragorn followed them there to the well and the trough, and then behind another building. There, down by the muddy pond, stood Arwen, Hadhafang drawn and glistening in the moonlight, facing off against four men who attacked from all sides. He drew Andúril, running down the hill towards them.

Arwen slashed out at the man before her, hewing his side and knocking him dead to the ground. The one behind her she smashed effectively in the face with her elbow, drawing her arm back and squashing his nose to a bloody pulp. He fell backwards into the water and remained there in the shallows, face-up and unmoving. She turned just as the third nearly sliced her shoulder from her body, but Aragorn was right there to meet him, Andúril tearing off his arm. The fourth man converged on Arwen, but she was ready, even from the close call she had just had. She knocked the sword from the drunken soldier's hand and kicked him back from her; he landed on his butt on the ground, and there he stayed, unconscious at their feet. Arwen turned to find Aragorn looking at her, both of them breathing hard, their swords still at the ready.

"Finally! How _kind_ of you to make it," her voice sounded indignant, though her eyes betrayed none of the relief at seeing him there well and alive…not to mention for saving her life. He looked back at her and his face grew cross, though there was something in his eyes as well.

"I swear," he complained, wiping Andúril and then sheathing it, "I cannot leave you alone for _one_ moment! What _is_ this problem with Elvish women and swords and _fighting_? Ilúvatar, save me from the headaches you bring me!"

"Me?" she questioned, taking a step closer to him. " _You_ should not have gone on your own into the inn! What were you thinking?"

"That I could trust you with one simple task: 'water the horses,' but _no_ ," he protested, "out from the inn I come and there is my horse," he said, waving back over his shoulder as Brego came down the hill, Asfaloth beside him, "stomping some stranger into the ground."

"He was defending himself!" she said just as defensive, wiping Hadhafang. "And what were _you_ doing? Having a drink while I was out here fighting for our lives?" She slammed the sword into its sheath as well, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him with a gleam in her eye.

"A simple task! An _ordinary_ task," he ranted in his soft way, as he gave a shuddering laugh and shook his head. "But nay, you must become all noble and begin to pick fights—"

" _Pick fights?_ " she snapped, her face two inches from his. "How _dare_ you insult—"

"—that _I_ must come and save you from!" he rolled his eyes. "What has evil turned you into?"

"See here, Thorongil, Rider of the Rohirrim—"

"I was having a simple drink with an old friend!"

" _You_ should have been out here with me!"

"Please! You should have been watering the horses as I had instructed you—"

" _Instructed?!_ " she snapped. "You… _you!_ "

"You cannot deny that I am right! If you had been where you were supposed to have been this would not have happened. You would not be out here fighting—"

"If you had taken me in there with you as I had wanted—"

"I thought you had wanted to please me?" he asked indignantly, his hands going to his hips as well. His eyebrows rose at the look of fury and something else that crossed her face, and he gave a frustrated sigh. "Truly, I cannot even begin to understand the way your mind works. Honestly, _inya_ , you call yourself my wife—"

And then her arms were around his neck and his around her waist and she had pressed her lips to his, cutting off his words and he was lifting her from the ground and holding her close and kissing her back. Then he just held her, her face pressed to his neck, her fingers wound tightly into his hair. " _Ilúvatar save you if you ever frighten me like that again_ ," he whispered softly, his voice hoarse and his throat tight. She could not help but give a laugh with the same tight-throated sound that he had.

" _Or you me_ ," she said, and he kissed the nape of her neck, the only part of her he could reach with his lips, her face so buried in his neck. "What happened in there?" she asked him when she could finally speak again.

He laughed. "I met a friend who _gladly_ told me all that he knew."

"What did this 'friend' have to say?"

"Bragolaur left not even a day ago, late in the morning of yesterday."

"We may catch them by dawn if we ride fast!" she said, her eyes widening. He released her immediately and kissed her forehead swiftly.

"Come," he said, and in another moment, they had swung up into their saddles. Brego and Asfaloth were ready, and they took off at a lope, leaving Londeglai behind.

* * *

Enguina woke as if from a fog; her head and shoulder were aching, but she remembered where she was and why she was here. Looking up, she immediately began looking for Gimli and Legolas; she found the dwarf first, tied up not far from her to a tree and clearly still unconscious. Legolas was also not far, about twenty feet to her right. His head still hung down, but he was breathing. She wondered a bit desperately if he was awake. She wanted to comfort him, to hold him in her arms. Having been so close to freeing him, the pain of failure was acute. And then she remembered _why_ she had failed…and her heart froze within her.

Desperation and terror filled her as she began to glance about the camp. It was only a few hours later not yet dawn, so the thump to her head must not have been too harsh. She looked about everywhere for a sign of Bragolaur; her biggest fear was that he was going to come to her. Feeling her hands begin to tremble, she tried to focus herself. _Ilúvatar, help me stop this. I need to rescue Legolas. Help me overcome my fear._ She had to begin herself; no one was coming to free _her_. She wrestled the pain in her shoulder and won as she tested the ropes on her wrists—they were old rope! Immediately, seeing an extremely fortunate gift, she began scraping them along the tree she had been propped up against. Not a soul in the camp was looking at her, especially as most of them were sound asleep again. She could not believe her good fortune and their foolishness! _Ilúvatar, you are good!_

A bit worried that someone might wake to her scratching noises, she wanted to hide the sound, but then, over that noise, she heard a soothing voice begin to sing quietly. The voice was Legolas's, and she was amazed that even though he was ill, he sang softly. She did not know if he knew she was awake and trying to escape, but the song began to give her peace; her worrying ceased, and her movements became more precise as the ropes began to tear.

 _Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_

 _Your perfect love is casting out fear_

 _Even when I am caught in the middle of the storms of this life_

 _I will not turn, I know you are near_

 _And I will fear no evil, for my god is with me_

 _And if Eru is with me, whom than shall I fear?_

 _You never let go, through the calm and through the storm_

 _You never let go through every high and every low_

 _You never let go, Lord, you never let go of me_

 _I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on_

 _There will be an end to these troubles, but until that day comes_

 _I will praise you; I will praise you._

Legolas's song of hope touched her heart. Things were at their worst at the moment: Bragolaur here, Gimli prisoner, Legolas wounded, but Ilúvatar was god in everything…and within him one could not be shaken. Had she not said the same words to Arwen a few months ago? She knew who was at her side, who went before and behind…he was with her. No matter what, she would trust him; He had gotten her this far.

 _Rip!_ The last bit of rope tore free. Her hands released with pain in her upper body, but she forced it aside so that she could throw herself to her feet, heading towards Legolas in the next instant. Unfortunately, there had been one man, Listwith, who had eyes on her, completely startled as she came to her feet directly in front of him. They stared at one another in shock for one complete second.

" _What the—"_ he began, and then rushed her. She brought up both hands and slammed them into his chest, knocking him backward. As he backpedaled, he could not catch his balance and his arms pin wheeled as he fell, butt-first into the campfire. Screaming, he rolled off, trying to put out his backside in the dust. Enguina, however, did not even look back; she had his sword, and she made right for Legolas. Realizing that they had never checked the ropes she had been untying, she easily undid what she had begun hours before.

The sudden release in pressure was both a major form of relief and a serious form of pain. Gasping for breath, Legolas fell forward, unable to catch himself; instead, she caught him in her arms, and then placed her hands on his face, her eyes searching for his.

"Oh my love, forgive me," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I am _so_ late."

He laughed softly though his chest ached. "Let us save Gimli and get— _look out!_ "

She was on her feet and swinging the sword in a moment, and it caught the man in hip, slicing through him. He fell over, and she kicked him away, the pain in her ribs slicing deep. In seconds, she knew that the group would be all over her. Quickly, she ran to the nearest horse, a friendly-looking grey, and untied it. But what she had not thought of suddenly came to the forefront of her mind. How was she to get Legolas on the horse? She dragged the steed over and hurriedly reached down to grab Legolas underneath the arms. There was no time to be careful and she steeled herself against the cry of pain that he had no choice but to release.

Just as suddenly her attempt had begun, there was not one in the camp who had not heard Listwith screaming. Arrows sliced through the air, dropping the horses just before she had been able to get Legolas onto it. Horror coursed through her at the death of the innocent animal, but she had to recover quickly, releasing Legolas and whirling with the sword she had stolen.

She knew something was wrong immediately. Her arms were weak and the sword was far too heavy for her to swing as she just had. She caught his blade, but he began to bring her sword back toward her, as there was no way she could hold him.

It was, instead, Legolas who saved them both. He dropped to his knees by the tree, grimacing in pain, and reached out, his hands finding the rope that had bound him. He hastily tossed it around the elf's legs and pulled hard, yanking his feet out from underneath him. Enguina plunged the sword down through his chest, and then threw herself to the ground to avoid the arrows, crawling after Legolas who had hidden behind the tree. Her back pressed against it as he gasped for breath, coughing.

 _"No, no…I want them alive you fools!"_ came Bragolaur's voice from across the camp as more arrows flew. " _Alive!_ Vilyath, right; Omarom, left. Bring her to me, and tie him back up—and make sure he _stays_ there!"

She wrapped her hand in his, breathing hard, and then she laughed softly. "We make quite a pair, do we not? You who cannot breathe and I who cannot fight."

He gave her a smile that was filled with his enchantment of her, and had she not known him well, she might have thought it brought on by the fever. "We are together," he said, his voice soft but intense, "and this is all that matters. I have never been more thankful to see anyone." He coughed, and it did not sound good.

"I prayed just to see your eyes again…" she murmured, tears stinging her eyes.

Legolas' voice dropped to a passionate whisper. "There is nothing else on this earth that I desire more than to share the rest of my days with you…even if they are numbered."

Her eyes fluttered closed; even in the midst of this battle, in the midst of all their fear and pain and worry, there was bliss and peace in this moment. "How I have longed to hear you say thatagain."

And then suddenly, Legolas was thrashing out with his fist, his knuckles smashing the elf full in the groin. The elf dropped to his knees, and Legolas' fist caught him in the face. As the elf fell to the ground for certain, unconscious, Legolas turned back to Enguina, giving her a sheepish smile. "Sorry… minor distraction."

"Minor?" questioned Enguina, and she gave a laugh that had never sounded more sweetly on his ears than it did at that moment. There was a lull in the battle; they could hear Bragolaur shouting to his men, and she used that time to meet his eyes once again. "Legolas, there is nothing I want more than to say to you that I love you…with all my heart." She took both of his hands. "I want to spend my life with you, too."

He grinned at her even though it felt as though his entire body had been given over to flames. "Good, because when we get out of here that will be very important." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her ring.

She laughed again, tears in her eyes. "I am beginning to worry if you _are_ speaking, or if that is the fever responding to me." She gave him a worried look. "How are we going to get out of this one, love?"

Legolas sighed; even with his diminished hearing, he knew Omarom and Vilyath were very near. "Ah, _moina_ _quén_ , that is the question, is it not?" He looked back at her and shook his head. "We do not. They are coming near; we cannot escape this tonight…not in our conditions…" he gave her a gentle smile that brought tears to her eyes even as he made fun, "I who cannot breathe and you who cannot fight."

Her heart sank, stopped, fluttered, and she slipped her arms around his neck so quickly that both of them gasped in pain at what she had done. "I know you are right," she whispered, her voice strained, "but I am so afraid." He held onto her, resting his head against her shoulder, exhausted, weak, ill. If he was going to die, he prayed that this would be his last moment.

Vilyath and Omarom were bursting through the brush then, bows drawn, yet neither one of them moved from the other's embrace. "We have them!" called Omarom.

Legolas did not even open his eyes as he whispered, "Ilúvatar has brought us to the valley of the shadow of death…now we must trust in Him to get us through it."

"What if we are all we have?" she whispered, her hands beginning to tremble.

"He will send us a help…Aragorn, Arwen," Legolas stated, his heart swelling with confidence.

She did not want to tell him that they were on their own, that there was no way Aragorn and Arwen would catch up to them and rescue them. But he spoke with such fervor, such passionate faith, that she could not deny him. "I believe in Ilúvatar's will, and I believe that what He binds together no one shall tear asunder. I know that He has a plan…and I know that He is with us now, giving us hope and strength to make it through this together. No matter what happens, Enguina. He will send his servant, Aragorn…the man will come, and we will be together forever."

A second later, what was left of the Gondorian men converged on them, yanking them to their feet and dragging them back out into the open view of the camp. Gimli was awake now, his eyes wide and watching them, and Bragolaur moved forward, looking at them with fierce anger. Vilyath and Omarom lowered their bows as the two captives were held. Enguina glanced about, fifteen of his men remained…the numbers were lessening each time.

"How must I tie the two of you? How close to death must you be, Prince, before you no longer try to escape?" he snapped. Nodding to Omarom, he pointed at Legolas, "Bind him back to the tree, but let her stand a moment." The elf moved, along with two other men, and bound Legolas tightly to the tree. They coiled the rope around his chest three or four times and then tied it tight…too tight.

"He can hardly breathe," Vilyath said softly to Omarom. "He will suffocate before the morning if you do not—"

"Leave him for a few hours," Bragolaur said. "Perhaps it will teach him a lesson…though I have a better one in mind." He looked back to Enguina, up and down once again…and she was struck with that same fear. Chilled to her very marrow, she prayed fervently for Ilúvatar's protection. He took a few slow steps to close the distance between them, and then suddenly swung his arm up to connect his hand to her face.

 _Crack!_ " _No_!" A spasm of pain ricocheted through her head and neck as her head snapped toward her right shoulder; she had forgotten how _hard_ he could strike, her cheek split from the pressure. She heard Legolas yell again, and then—

 _Crack!_ "Stop it! _Stop it, you bastard_!"

 _Crack! Crack! Crack!_ Consecutive, hard…her eye, her lips, her temple throbbed with pain. Legolas was hollering at the top of his lungs, choking, screaming vicious things that she had never thought could ever come out of such a gentlemanly mouth.

 _CRACK!_ The last was the hardest, a backhand to the right side of her face as her head snapped left, blood spraying on the nearest man's tunic from a split lip. She gasped in pain, but she made no other sound; Legolas's cries were enough. He was ignored.

"Now…how shall I punish you?" he asked her softly, catching her face in his hand and turning her head to look full in her face. Enguina did not open her eyes; she did not want him to see her tears. "Tying you up is not good enough, and…I have a few ideas on what I think would _really_ punish you." She smothered the whimper that nearly came through her gritted teeth. He released her and looked to the two men who were holding her.

"Hrigow, Stetlan, Mifer, you will take her to the river as we discussed. You know what to do; I want her back… _unspoiled_."

Legolas wrenched back and forth, ignoring his own pain. No, no! If Enguina left his sight, he would not know if she was safe, all right! Bragolaur could not take her out of the camp! For the first time since his capture, true fear coursed through Legolas, and he lunged once again against the ropes, trying to break free.

"Stop, Bragolaur!" cried Legolas. "Have mercy, _please_!" Enguina was being dragged away, and Bragolaur closed in on Legolas, slamming his hand into the tree bark beside the elf's head and bringing his face so close Legolas could smell his breath.

" _Mercy?_ There is no such _thing_ as _mercy_ , Legolas!" he hissed. "Mercy is for the weak, the pitiful, not the strong and powerful! Mercy is what dying men ask for so that they might seek a quicker reward. Mercy is nowhere to be found in this camp! You keep seeking it, you _pathetic_ _fool_ , but you will not find it. She _deserves_ to be punished; just as you did."

" _Please_ ," Legolas whispered, his eyes closed now, " _I am begging you…do not hurt her. I am all you want. I will do whatever you want, just…please…"_

"Oh, I am sure you _will_. I will not hurt her… _much,_ " he sneered. "A lesson in obedience, Legolas, needs to be taught here. Do you not want your woman _obedient_? When you speak, she should respond; when you say, she should kneel; when you take, she should give…and that is all. A more perfect woman there could not be."

"Women are not to be slaves," he said, his head still bowed. "You should not treat them so, especially her."

"I will do as I choose, as I will do with you," Bragolaur snapped, giving him a wicked grin. "Prince, you have no idea how much worse your life can get…so much worse. I suggest that you do not waste your time praying to your god for salvation. _No one is coming for you_ , and the escape attempts stop here, or next time…I will run a sword through her throat."

Legolas's head came up at that and he stared the elf down. "If you touch her again, I swear—"

"Are you threatening to kill me, Legolas?" he said with a smirk.

"Yes," he replied menacingly, "and I _will_ make you suffer." Bragolaur shoved himself from the tree and turned his back on the elf.

"I am _so_ worried, Prince. You do not have the character to be vengeful. I will be back later; in the meantime, take a little sleep…you will need it."

"You are kind to give me the warning," Legolas snapped, but Bragolaur ignored him, leaving Omarom to stand guard.


	22. Chapter 22

"Here," laughed Stetlan, "your turn Hrigow!"

Enguina felt herself shoved mercilessly through the deep water, her arms clutched across her chest as she stumbled, gasping with paralyzing fear and disgust. Hrigow grabbed her by the arm and dragged the rough cloth over her stomach and then left hip. She tried to yank back and away from him, but he just laughed with Stetlan, reaching around to her backside. Lashing out with a foot, he snatched it before she could pull it away and she screamed as he released her arm and reached between her legs with the cloth.

"Whoa!" Stetlan yelled to him. "She didn't like _that_ , boy!"

The foot that was held by Hrigow was pulled and she dropped backwards into the water before he released her, taking her tightly around the chest and dragging her upright and into him. Wrestling with him this time was nearly impossible; this struggle had taken every last bit of the strength she had. He slapped the cloth over the back of her neck even as she tried everything she could to hinder him and then down beneath her arms, shoving them out of the way to press against her breasts. She slipped and went under again, still thrashing, but he reached down to grab her.

"Now, go dry off, _yesta_ ," he laughed aloud.

Hrigow, that son of a bitch, drew her up out of the water by her hair and shoved her towards Mifer who stood on the bank, waiting for her. She stumbled through the chest-deep water, her legs barely functioning; she was freezing as she sputtered and gasped for breath. She slipped and went under twice more before she got her feet beneath her again. The terror of drowning outweighed her worry about what waited her on the bank, but she could not willingly go there—not now that she had her wits about her for half-a-moment. Once she cleared her eyes of water and flung her hair back, she turned and immediately began wading her way downriver—

Where strong-armed Stetlan, the biggest of the three grabbed her by the arm just as she thought she was past him. Enguina had not seen him, and now she was going to regret it. _Oh god!_

She squealed as he dragged her back against him; her naked back pressing to his shirtless chest. "Where do ya think yer goin', lass?" he laughed, and she barely had time to catch a breath before she went under, his big hand holding her head beneath the surface of the water. She struggled, trying to scratch him as she felt his big arm wrap around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. He let her come up for a quick breath, where she barely heard Mifer over her gasping.

"All right now, Stetlan; get her up here bef—"

And then she was under again, sputtering, barely able this time to hold her breath as she struggled and fought; she was _dying_ , _blacking out—_ this man was going to kill her! He brought her up again as she thrashed.

" _Enough_!" That was Hrigow, snatching at her arms; she was wrestled over by the two men. Hrigow almost had her, but Stetlan yanked, and she went under again, this time forced to the bottom by their shoving, Mifer hollering in the background. Something hit her head…and things went dark…

She woke suddenly, vomiting water out of her mouth, her chest aching as though someone had been thumping on it with their fist. Someone rolled her onto her side and left her there, coughing and spitting up water; utterly exhausted and naked, she never even tried to make another escape…never even thought of it.

This had been her past hour; an _hour_ spent at the river with these three large men who positively terrified her. She had no intention of doing anything they wanted; had no idea what they planned to do with her, what Bragolaur had planned to do with her. She fought with them, and they wrestled with her like three large dogs toying with a cat. But they could not seem to pin her down…not at least until they got her in the water.

They had held her head underwater, holding her arms and legs so she could not thrash away from them, at least six times before she was so distraught that she had begun to shiver and beg them to stop. They did it once more and she felt like she lost her mind, sputtering and crying for mercy, before they began removing her clothes. Terror had struck her then, and despite her bleeding wounds and exhaustion, she lashed out, trying to be free of them, desperate to be loose. They hit her a few times, Stetlan holding her shoulder wound so tight she thought they had removed her arm. She was screaming to be released, but they ignored her, dunking her again and removing her clothes while she was underwater.

They unceremoniously bathed her, then; every move they made she shied away from, humiliated and terrified by their actions. They laughed at her, jeered at her, as they had shoved her back and forth between them, cleaning her wounds and the dirt from her body and calling her all manner of inappropriate things and talking about her body. If she made any move to escape they would dunk her again viciously, and then drag her hands away that protectively covered herself and scrub her some more. She was helpless, at their mercy…and they had none for her, clearly following orders. Then, Mifer had gotten out and prepared a towel for her.

Enguina, trembling all over from the ordeal and the chill, her skin crawling, lay unmoving upon the grassy bank, trying to regain her strength. She was terrified, and the water on her face was not only from the river; she did not know what was going to happen to her…and she knew that this might only be the beginning. She felt a blanket or something cover her back and hands began to rub her dry. She tried to cover herself when he rolled her over, but he grabbed her hand and dragged it away from her chest so he could dry her.

"Do not flatter yourself; I am not going to touch you," Mifer snorted. " _I_ can follow orders."

"Speak fer yerself!" laughed Hrigow as he slapped her on the thigh. "Bitch's gorgeous! I'd like a quick piece of that, if you take my meaning!" He reached down to slap her again, and she found a reserve of energy, lashing out with her foot, her toes catching him in the chin, snapping back his head.

" _AGH!_ " he hollered. " _That little bitch!_ " He leaned back, holding his jaw.

"Serves you right for disobeying the Master," Stetlan taunted. "Go get her clothes, you ass." He reached down and grabbed her ankles; Enguina reacted immediately, trying to gather the strength to break away. He reached down and slapped her in the stomach. "Stop your wriggling, or _I'll_ do worse. I'm a hell of a lot _bigger_ than him."

"You nearly killed her in the water, Stetlan," growled Mifer. "You can keep your hands off just as well."

"I also saved her life," he replied, jutting out his chin. "Argue with _that_ , elf."

"I cannot," he agreed, shaking his head. He snapped in the other man's direction, "Get moving, Hrigow!"

They had something for her to put on; just a loose tunic and leggings for over her undergarments, and within minutes they had her dressed and sitting up on the bank, a blanket around her shoulders and no more comments from Hrigow. Stetlan stood guard while the other two stripped down and changed into dry clothes. She sat still, under his watchful eye, shivering, and she was not entirely sure it was because she was cold. She could still feel their hands crawling all over her body, and she pulled herself together even more tightly, tucking her arms around her and her knees to her chest. There was only a moment of good that had come of this: her wounds were clean and not paining her as they had been, not even her shoulder. At the moment, she felt as weak as a newborn lamb.

She could hear Hrigow grumbling about his jaw and then felt a hand on her arm. "Time to go," came Mifer's voice. "We must not keep the Master waiting."

Between the two of them, they forced her to her feet and made her walk as best she could. She was so exhausted she could hardly move, and the last thing she wanted was to head back towards camp. Thinking of another escape attempt, her plan was simple: break free, run through the woods until she got to Lómë and Firgenwine, race back to camp and break out Legolas and Gimli. It _sounded_ great…but she figured she would be extremely lucky to make it past step one.

But she had to get a reputation for trying. So she scratched herself free from Mifer and bolted to her left as he hollered…and she ran straight into Bragolaur. Knocking into his chest, she had such a reaction that she fell back, her knees buckling from the impact and Stetlan caught her just as she was about to hit the ground.

"I see you have learned nothing from your experience at the river," he said coolly. Their eyes met, and she stared back into his, afraid to look away. He looked at his men, smiling. "I think I can take it from here, gentlemen," he said, and before Stetlan could even release her, he had her wrists bound and he sat her down against a tree, staring down at her.

The men disappeared into the trees, and she could hear they were not far from the camp, perhaps only a hundred yards or so. _Legolas…Legolas…get to Legolas…_ She was _desperate_ for him; to see him; to have him touch her arm, kiss her forehead, and tell her it was going to be all right. That it would be all right, even after these three men had touched her and Bragolaur had bound her hands…oh…in what world could this ever be all right?

"Wh-why?" she stuttered over the word and she cursed her own fear. "Why did you have them do that to me?" She was still trembling; as much as she tried not to show him, she was terribly afraid of him, and it was far worse being alone with him. Her hair was wet, and despite the spring heat, she was chilled to the bone…and she could still feel their hands on her.

"To teach you a lesson," he told her, crouching down in front of her; it made her want to tuck her knees up to her chest again, to hide from him. "You have been trying to escape at every turn, and I have no patience for that. And you have now killed what…thirteen of my men? You and the lousy dwarf? Legolas had not even killed so many. You, who have never been a warrior, have now killed a dozen men." He leaned in closer, and she steeled herself so she did not shrink away. "How does that make you feel?"

"Awful," she whispered, remembering her first kill that had been an accident. But this was different, she had been searching for Legolas, and she and Gimli would have been killed if they had not defended themselves and attacked Bragolaur's men…but that was an excuse and she knew it. It made her feel every bit as awful as she had said.

"You should," he stated. "You have just become a murderer."

"Stop it," she said, trying to pretend it was not true; still trying to control her fear.

"You know, the Prince is just as guilty as you are. He—"

" _Legolas_ …" she whispered, her eyes closed as she breathed shallowly. "Is he all right? What have you done to him?"

"What have _I_ done?" He shook his head. "No, my men did most of that…and the ones who did are _dead_ now, thanks to you and the hideous dwarf." He snorted. "What in the hell are you doing with a dwarf? Despicable creatures. He will not be in the camp for long."

"Leave him alone," she said firmly, but he only laughed.

"You sound exhausted…but then again, you never were one for the water, were you?" He grinned. "Yes, I still remember you quite well." She lifted her head and rested it against the tree. Yes, let him think she was even weaker than she was…perhaps she could find a good time to strike at him then.

"I thought I was dying," she said with a shiver. "I nearly drowned."

"Perhaps you should have been more cooperative."

"It was cruel," she whispered, and then she looked at him, tucking her legs up against herself, feeling more unclean than she had before her dip in the river. "It was barbaric."

He laughed. "It was only a bath, fair love."

" _Please_ …do not call me that."

Bragolaur was silent for a moment, and it gave him time to study her. Even wet, she was quite the beauty, her hair was beginning to dry, as long and golden as he remembered. Her slender throat and pale skin gave way to breasts that he longed to lay his hands on again. Her eyes closed, he could see her long lashes brushing her cheekbones, her full lips—gods, he wanted to taste them. He knew she was wounded, but the idea of her pain and the fact that she feared him excited him. He could not hide how attracted he was to her; he never could. He had always been completely taken with her… _always_. He _wanted_ her; his obsession with her hand had never left him after all these years. When she had appeared again after so long, he felt that familiar stirring, and there would be no denying him...she just did not know that yet. But good things came to those who would wait for them, and he had waited far too long for this.

Bragolaur was the sort of man who had very little patience and wanted things his way and done quickly. It had been more than forty years since he had lain eyes on her, and he could see that the only way that she had changed was a few more lines around her eyes. She looked a bit _older,_ if that were even possible. He wondered if he had been the cause of that change. If so, all for the better. He had told her, all those years ago, that she would ever forget him.

"It _is_ good to see you again," he murmured. "I see you have not forgotten me, fair love."

Enguina suppressed a shudder. "I asked you to stop calling me that."

"It is what I have always called you," he replied, "and it is what you are."

"Not...not to you; not anymore," she stated, shaking her head as she saw his eyes flash. "And furthermore, you must have been living in the outskirts for too long," she continued softly. "Can you not remember that elves and dwarves have been living as friends for nearly seven years now? Gimli is well-known among our people as one of the Nine Walkers."

"Ah yes, that is right…the War of the Ring." He snorted. "If Sauron had won, then I would not have had to suffer ransoming someone for a home."

"If Sauron had won," she returned dryly, "we would all be looking for homes, or be dead. What do you need Legolas for?" She was confused. "Ransom?"

And then suddenly, it all made sense why they had taken her betrothed in the first place. Legolas was the bait for a trap set for Thranduil; of _course_. Bragolaur was clearly hoping to make a home in Eryn Lasgalen; he would have the King hand over part of his kingdom to rescue his son. Enguina did not know Thranduil at all though Legolas spoke of him from time to time. He was a kingly elf, and she had come to imagine him in her mind's eye a bit like Celeborn, whom she greatly missed. She could not imagine that a King, no matter what he was threatened with, could ever sacrifice so many lives for one. It infuriated her that Bragolaur would even ask for such a thing.

"You…you have changed so much," she whispered. "You were never cruel, heartless, and uncaring." She stared at him, horrified, "But perhaps I never really knew you. Perhaps _this_ …this _creature_ is the real thing, and it was hiding beneath your skin all along." She frowned deeply and swallowed hard; thinking of that time in Lórien always left a foul taste in her mouth. "I thought, when we last parted, that it was your passions controlling you, but…now I understand much better; this _is_ you. You hid this man in Lórien. I guess I…never really knew you."

He scowled at her. "You have changed as well, fair love, keeping company with dwarves!" he spat, and then he seemed to rein in his anger and look back at her. "And how _was_ fair Lórien when you left it? How many years ago was that?"

"Months, actually," she replied, her voice still soft. "Lothlórien is much changed, as well as we are. The Lady sailed, and so have many of the elves who I thought would remain. It is an empty shell now, full of reminders of what was, what has been. It makes me sad; it is a shadow of itself."

"I know your brother is dead," he said, and there was a note of sadness in his voice. "I regret that he is gone. What of Erumar and her children?"

"The loss of Haldir has all but killed her," she murmured sadly. "All her children but Aelin have sailed; even Hrivë, who I thought would remain to care for her in her grief, but she is gone as well. Erumar is alone now, with few friends left for company."

He frowned at her. "She is a fool for staying. There is nothing for her here."

"She has lost everything. I tried to speak to her, to get her to come with me, for I, myself, had decided to sail, but…" she hesitated, "Ilúvatar had other plans for me."

"Ah yes, the Great One. And now we come to it: The Prince," he said mockingly. "Is he all you ever dreamed of? All you ever wanted?"

She looked at him, saw the fire blazing in his eyes, and knew the reward she would receive whether she told a truth or a lie. Deciding upon truth, she lifted her chin slightly. "He is more than I ever imagined that I deserved."

Bragolaur stared at her, a mixture of emotions on his face. "And you love _him_?"

The question burned in her mind; she remembered him asking something so similar to her in Lórien, but it had been about himself. She did not want to answer, did not want to anger him, but he was waiting, and she would never have lied about something that meant so much to her.

"Yes," she whispered. "I love him."

The slap came; even though she had been expecting it, it still hurt. " _Love_ ," he snarled at her. "You say you _love_ him. Was it any different when _we_ were together? Was it any different when you told me you loved me?"

"I…never told you I loved you. I never told you I loved you at all," she replied honestly. "I could have never loved you like this, Bragolaur." As his name passed her lips, she felt her heart clench—it was the first time she had said his name aloud since Lórien, and she never thought she would be saying it to his face. No matter what the next few days brought, the nightmares would torture her ceaselessly.

"Oh I _know_ ," he snapped. "Because even though you agreed to marry me, you told me that you loved me like a _brother_ , not a lover."

"You have a very poor memory," she said softly, not wanting to rile him. "I never said I would marry you; I said I would think about it, and that led to the honesty that I could not marry you. You asked, I answered. I am so sorry that I hurt you." She shook her head. "I have always been sorry for it." She hesitated, and then continued, "And I have always been sorry for the way you reacted to it."

"If you were sorry," he insisted, "you would have said yes."

"Then I would not have needed to be sorry," she replied. "I said yes to Legolas; he has rescued me from…from the sorrow of the past years." She shook her head. "I was alone until he found me; now we are one." He glared at her, and this close to her his scars made him seem all the more hideous. She could no longer prevent herself from asking the question.

"What…what happened—"

He slapped her across the face— _hard_ —and snarled, "You _dare_ to ask me where I received these scars! _You_ , of all people, _dare_ to ask me?" He moved to strike her again and she threw her hands up to block him; she was exhausted from being hit in the face. He yelled something unintelligible, and she felt his boot connect with her ribcage. Crying out, she fell to her side, and he snatched her arm and dragged her back to her knees before throwing her to the ground before him and kicking her repeatedly in the midsection.

Gasping for breath, and trying to block him with tied hands, she groaned out, " _Stop, Bragolaur…please!_ " He pulled back his foot from her and then dragged her to her knees again, getting up in her face, his nose nearly touching hers.

"You know how I got these scars, Enguina?" he whispered, his voice low and threatening. She tried to concentrate on breathing instead of the pain spearing through her ribs and abdomen. "I received them the very same day that you denied me for the final time." She paled as he continued with a cruel smile. "Yes, I see you remember that day. I hope it has stayed with you every moment; I hope my phantom fingertips cling to your skin at night as you lay down your head." He reached up and stroked them across her forehead, making her flinch and try to turn her head away. "It was your _rescuer_ …it was that wretched and accursed friend of yours who gave them to me with her c _laws_. Like an eagle she came, tearing at my face, at my skin, and I suffered for weeks before they stopped festering and finally healed. _Arwen_ ," he sneered and spat on the ground at her feet. "I curse her to death for what she did that day."

Enguina wanted to spit in his face, but she settled for thrusting her tied hands into his chin; it was the only part she could reach. "How dare you slander her name!" she snapped back. "How _dare_ you—"

"How dare _I?_ " he shouted, twisting her hands over her head and pinning them back against the tree so that her body jutted out towards him.

"Nonono! _No_!" she cried out as he wrestled with her, holding her with one hand and moving the other to grip her face.

"How dare I? That little _whore_! Falling for a mortal and throwing herself at his feet! She ruined everything; my place in Lórien, my love of you, my best friend in the world…she took _everything_ from me."

"You did that _yourself_!" she snarled out. "It is because of Arwen's mercy you _live!_ If not for her mercy, you would be dead."

"Oh, do not fool yourself, fair love; she _tried_ to kill me, she simply could not get the job done. But do not worry, if I ever see her again, I will finish the Ranger's bitch _myself_."

"If you just had reined yourself in, you could have had everything! Instead you have _nothing_!"

"Nothing?" he repeated, and there was suddenly a strange light in his eyes. " _Nothing?_ " he asked again, and she felt him release her chin and lower his hand to her throat. Her breath cut off, and she suddenly could find no oxygen at all. "I think you know very well that I have _something_ right now. I have Legolas, your lover, tied up in my camp…I have your little dwarvish friend who I intend to allow my men to have some fun with if they are not already having it…and I have _you_ ," he leered, dropping his hand to her right breast and rubbing his thumb along her tunic, " _which I am going to take full advantage of._ "

Terror surged through her and she went completely into flight mode. Bringing her head forward as fast as she could, she smashed her forehead into his. To Bragolaur, this was completely unexpected, and when she collided with him, he released her arms and dropped back to his haunches, dazed. Pulling her arms back over her head, breathing hard, she thrust herself to her knees and then to her feet, where she was yanked back down to the ground by her ankle. The move was so reminiscent of her last encounter with him that she screamed aloud, fear flooding her as she desperately tried to pull away.

He was upon her, and so was his weight. His fist connected with the side of her head, three, four, five times. By the time he drew back for a sixth, her head was swimming and she barely had control of her body; the left hand side of her face and head felt bloody, her skin bruised and swelling. Yet she still tried to roll away from him, and he rolled her onto her back, straddling her body. Writhing beneath him, she began screaming, and he slapped her across the face again and again before tearing her tunic and shoving a part of the sleeve in her mouth. His fists began connecting with her body then, even as she tried to club him with her joined hands or toss him from her.

"You want to try and escape again? _You want to try_?!" he screamed at her as he pummeled every bit of her he could reach with his angry fists. No matter what she tried, she could not dislodge him; he was too heavy, and she was too weak. By the time he was finished, she felt there was no inch of her that had not been bruised. Her eyes tightly closed, she coughed against the rag in her mouth, her face bloodied. She could not scream if she wanted to; she could not even moan.

He yanked the cloth from her mouth and grabbed her chin in his hand, his fingers cutting into her cheeks as he held her in an iron fist. "Do not _ever_ do that again, do you hear me?" She did not answer; she could not, and he shook her like a ragdoll before he got closer to her face. " _Answer me!_ "

She nodded, barely able to move her head, but it satisfied him as he dropped her to the ground, crossed over her body and crouched beside her in the dirt. Coughing, her stomach seizing, the pain in her limbs and torso was extensive. She lay there, trying to get her breath back; it was so difficult.

"Being with him has made you arrogant," he hissed at her. "You would have listened better in those days; you _did_ listen better." Looking at her, with her chest heaving, he stared, and she saw what he was looking at.

"I am who I was; it is you who have changed," she coughed, and her face ached so much she turned it away from him. "You have no patience of any kind; you maim and wound as you want to get what you want. That is all that matters to you-the wound."

He moved rapidly back to her side and placed his hands on either side of her ribs, pressing down on the wound. She winced and then once again tried to push him away, but he knocked her hands back. "You are right, fair love. I have no patience for being refused, and I _enjoy_ the wound. I enjoy seeing how frightened you are and how you try to hide from me, but you cannot. So...I will ask you once, and it will only be once: will you submit yourself to me?"

Enguina stared at him. "What?" She asked, her ears still ringing. She could not have heard him; she would not believe he had asked such a question of her.

He lowered his voice and leaned in close to her ear, the edges of his thumbs brushing the bottom of her breasts. She squirmed beneath him as he murmured, "Submit yourself to me."

"Who _are_ you?" she asked, horrified. "I do not even know you anymore! I used to tell myself that what happened between us, that what you _did_ to me, was a mistake. That you...that you never meant to hurt me; that what you did was because you would not control yourself." She stared at him, her eyes wide, and he could see, full of fear. "I thought you were _sorry_. Arwen—"

He slapped her across the face again, and she grunted with pain. "Do _not_ say her name! What happened between us was because you played the shy, innocent one," he sneered, beginning to maneuver his hands along her breasts, "and then you decided you did not want me anymore—"

"No, no!" she cried, both denying what he said and pleading with him to stop. She tried to shove him back with her hands, but this time he caught them with one of his and held her so she could not move them. "That is not true! It is not true! _Please_!"

"You thought to lead me on, and then I would be so full of desire for you that when I could not go back, you would set me free," he stated. She began to wrench back and forth, trying desperately to get away from him as his hand freely groped along her breast. _Legolas, Legolas, please!_

" _Please!_ " she begged, and then he was straddling her again to make her still and she cried out in fear. She brought her knee up twice into his back before he slapped her across the face again. Grunting, her head fell to the side where he grabbed her throat, his fingers holding her jaw, and turned her face back towards him.

"I think, as much as you were hurt, that this is what you really want!" he said, and roughly pressed his lips over hers. She strained against him, unable to cry out, but as he began to lift his head, she spit squarely in his face. Two swift slaps to the face and three fists to the ribs later, she was no better off, and he kissed her hard again, and then twisted her head to the side by her chin and began brutally kissing her neck back towards her ear. She squirmed, crying out as he bit down hard against her neck. She thrust her hands upward but could get nowhere as he moved on to her ear, biting down deep and hard enough to draw blood. Gasping in pain, Enguina brought her knee up again as a last resort, and he yelled out loud and pressed down hard against her ribs-it took the wind out of her.

"Do you think of me at night, Enguina? Have you been living for this moment your entire life since your precious savior interrupted us? Come on, _beg_ me!" He slapped her as tears began to spill over her bruised face. " _Beg_ me for it!"

"I used to define my life by you," she groaned out, tasting blood, "but not anymore. I have something to live for and I will not let you take it from me!" He threw all of his weight down upon her to hold her tight and she let her breath out in pain. "Stop, _please,_ " she coughed.

"Give yourself to me!" he snarled and with fire in her eyes she lifted her head and shoved her face in his.

" _No!_ " she snarled right back, and he gripped her hair in his fist then and held her head.

" _Then I will take you_." She felt sharp, searing pain across the back of her head.

The last things she remembered were his scarred face and wicked eyes.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: The excerpt in italics here is from The Bible, Psalm 91. Obviously, I don't own that, nor did I write it! LOL

* * *

Legolas leaned his head back against the tree, eyes closed, chest _hurting._ He was _very_ ill indeed. It was still dark yet, dawn only an hour or less off; he could tell by the lightening of the sky. He felt dizzy, feverish, and his cough was much worse than it had been a few hours ago. Terribly worried about Enguina, he could not find sleep though he wished he could lie down. What had Bragolaur meant by it, taking her to the river? What did that mean? It made him sick to think of Enguina, completely alone, with three frighteningly burly men. After everything that had happened to her in the last few months, he could do nothing to protect her now. Just the thought of Bragolaur striking her across the face made his blood boil...and his head hurt.

Tilting this way and that, he carefully made the ropes rub and grind against the tree. Perhaps, and he did not know if this would work, but perhaps he could somehow get loose without them knowing; then, at the opportune moment, he would strike Bragolaur and kill him. If he could do that, cut off the serpent's head, they would be shocked and leaderless. It was not going to be easy, but it kept his mind from dwelling on what could possibly be happening to Enguina that he could do nothing about.

He prayed softly, under his breath. He needed to trust Ilúvatar now, more than ever. He knew that there was a plan in here somewhere, but once again, he had no idea what it was. He prayed for Aragorn to reach them. Was he coming? He needed patience, peace...and both of them were slow in coming. Patience was _not_ one of his strongest virtues; in fact, he would be happy to say he even had a very little of it. His mother had all the patience, his father none...he supposed a little was better than none.

There was quite a loud ruckus on the other side of the dwindling camp. It appeared that the three men who had taken Enguina...what were their names? Mifer, Hrigow, and...the third and biggest man were standing near Gimli...and they were harassing him. He was a dwarf, and Legolas could see, even from this distance, that they were yanking his beard. Legolas's hearing was so diminished that he could not quite catch what they were saying.

Suddenly, he heard a yell and then Gimli's voice, loud and clear, shouting, "Ya sons of Melkor himself! I'll hew yer heads clean off, ya spineless lot!" There was some raucous laughter, and then a moment of silence before a _snapping_ sound. Gimli began cursing at the top of his voice, and it was only when Legolas saw Hrigow step back that he saw they were breaking the dwarf's fingers.

"What are you doing!?" he yelled at the top of his voice, angrier than he could have ever imagined himself. "Stop! Stop it _now!"_ He lunged at the ropes; they tightened like a noose across his chest and his voice cut out as he broke into a fit of coughing.

"Stetlan! What are you doing to him?" It was Vilyath's voice that was heard, and then Stetlan's laughter. Hrigow did not answer her, but Mifer did.

"You are not in charge here, nursemaid. Go see to the elf; he was hollering at us, last I heard."

"You do not have any right to tell me what to do either, and you have no right to torture the captives!"

"Take it up with Bragolaur," interrupted Hrigow. "I hear he's got a thing for you ladies." Legolas opened his eyes and looked over to where the foursome was arguing around Gimli. He was surprised to see Vilyath, who had seemed to be the leader all along, stepping back from them. These three had joined the group in Londeglai, and they had clearly been with Bragolaur the longest.

"You have no right—" she began, and Stetlan stepped up to her, a bully if Legolas ever saw one. Hrigow moved to take his place near Gimli's fingers, but Vilyath took another step back to stay out of his reach.

"I've got every right," he said a bit menacingly. "I know exactly what the man's about. He enjoys playing with you; likes to roughhouse with you, listen to you whimper, cry out. Oh yeah, I know that. You think we can't hear it when he takes you? Arouses the rest of us something fierce!"

"Stop it!"

"Come to think of it, Stetlan," said Hrigow with a wicked grin, "I'm pretty aroused still from that river trip. Think the Master'd mind if we had a bit of fun with his whore?"

Stetlan reached forward suddenly and grabbed Vilyath by the arm, tugging her back against him. Holding her tightly, he pressed their hips together and ground himself against her. "If he'd _let_ us have you for an hour, I'd show you what screaming's _really_ about." She elbowed him in the stomach, and when he released her she darted forward out of his grasp. But he laughed instead of being angry.

Swallowing hard, she stared back at him. "You disgust me."

"That's funny, Vilyath, but I bet you'd enjoy it. You'll have to move on anyway. Once he uses you up, he'll find the next pretty thing. Besides, there's two of you in the camp now, so I'm sure he'll have to divvy up his time."

Mifer laughed as well. "Yeah, he always preferred blondes anyway."

"Killed a few of them by accident over the years in his fits of passion," sneered Hrigow.

Stetlan nodded to her. "Now run along, Vilyath; Hrigow has fingers to break."

Even among the dishonest there were disagreements and squabbles, Legolas knew this very well. He watched as Vilyath turned away without another argument and began making her way to him with some water. Most of the other men in the camp were asleep at the moment; trying to get some last bit of shut eye before dawn. Looking up as Vilyath neared him, he was grateful for the water-especially when all he tasted was metallic, rusty...he hoped his lungs were not filling with fluid.

"Do you never rest?" he asked softly, and he was surprised to see tears on her face. He did not mention them yet, as she was clearly trying to rub them away with a sleeve, but she crouched down to give him a drink.

"I do," she murmured, "but not tonight." She leaned in a bit closer and studied his face, then she lifted a hand to touch his forehead. "Lord Above, you are burning up. I do not have anything to give you."

He chuckled softly and ended up coughing for a few minutes. After taking another drink from her, he said, "I do not think it will matter much, and I am hoping I will not be here much longer."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you know something I do not?"

"I certainly hope so," he replied with a smile. "I should thank you, for the water and your defense of Gimli."

There was a _snap_ , another bout of dwarvish cursing, and a scowl from her. "Do not thank me; they are still doing it." There was nothing Legolas could do for Gimli, but...

"You _could_ free me," he stated. Honesty was his strength; perhaps she would help him.

"No, I could not," she replied softly. "Do not ask it of me, Legolas." He was silent for a moment, thinking of how much he could press her...but she was too loyal and far too close to Bragolaur.

"Did..." He cleared his throat, trying to speak around the illness. "Did what they say hurt you? Is this not something you knew about the man?"

She was silent for a moment. "I _thought_ he loved me," she said with misery in her tone. "I thought that he did what he did because he loved passionately, because he lost control. But he has _forgotten_ me. He barely remembers me now that he sees her."

" _Her_? Enguina?" Legolas asked, now very worried. "Where is she?" At that moment exactly, there was a soft scream that came a few hundred yards away from the camp over in the woods. Legolas picked up his head immediately. "Enguina?!" He would have known that cry anywhere; he knew that it was her. Staring into the woods, he tried to pick up her trail but there was no way to see her. "Enguina!" he called again, much more urgently.

"There is no use calling to her," she said. "She cannot answer you if she is with him...she may not be able to hear you."

He looked to her, his expression pained. "Vilyath, what is his plan for her?"

"I do not know," she answered honestly, trying not to think about it herself.

"Please, I beg you, is there nothing I can say to convince him—"

"Legolas," she said softly, "Bragolaur is not the sort of man you can convince of anything. If he chooses to do something, he is going to do it." He gave her a look of pure helplessness, and then closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the tree. She watched him a moment. "What are you doing?"

"Praying...for her, and for peace. I am afraid."

She stared at him. "Prince, you have been a captive for nearly a week, and yet you have never appeared afraid. _Now_ you are?"

A cry for help echoed through his consciousness so desperately that he flinched and gritted his teeth against the wave of fear that washed over him. It pierced him, convicted him, and he began to drag the ropes back and forth against the tree again, even in front of Vilyath. Through clenched teeth, he replied, " _Terrified_. I am terrified for her."

"What—what are you doing?" she asked again, and this time, she could see that he was grinding the ropes slightly. "You cannot—"

"Do not look if you feel responsible for me, or if you cannot help me," he said. "I _must_ rescue her."

"That is impossible."

"Ilúvatar can make the impossible, possible," he struggled to say as he pulled. "He gave me Guin; he will not take her from me now. If you cannot help, then leave me be."

She was struck by his faith; she knew that he was trying to free himself, and she knew that if anyone found out that she had known, she would be killed. But something in her told her to leave him alone, so she did. Standing, she turned her back to him, and as she walked away back toward the fire, the sleeping men, and the broken-fingered dwarf, she saw the figure of Bragolaur.

It was Legolas though, who saw what it was he was bearing in his arms as he came through the trees. It was a horrifying sight, even with his eyes diminished. He saw Enguina was bleeding from the head in numerous places: her forehead, her cheek, her upper lip was even split. Her tunic was bloodied near the shoulder and across her ribs. Her face was terribly bruised. If Legolas had thought he was angry when he had seen what the men had done to Gimli, the patience and peace he had prayed for were completely lost now. Furious, terrified that she was dead because she was so still, he lost his mind.

"May the God of the Earth _smite_ you, Bragolaur!" he roared, and even Vilyath was stunned by his volume as she knew he was so ill. No one was left asleep in the camp at his yelling. " _Curse_ you, you _bastard_ , what have you _done_ to her?! _What_ _have_ _you done?_ "

"Not what you expected, Legolas?" Bragolaur asked with a sneer as he dumped her on the ground not three meters from the tree. She fell from his arms and rolled to a stop, her back against a rock, clearly unconscious.

Legolas launched himself against the ropes _yearning_ to get his hands on Bragolaur's neck. He did not care what he tore, what he broke, if he could breathe at all; all he wanted was to kill him and rescue her. "You _foul_ —you _evil_ —" Bragolaur laughed, watching Legolas's hands clench and unclench as he struggled against the ropes. Now that Enguina was lying on the ground, he could see that her hair was wet...and that led him to noticing that she was wearing much different clothes. He glared at Bragolaur, horror on his face. "What have you done to her? Is she all right?"

"She got what she deserved," he replied, staring at Legolas and watching him making sure Enguina was breathing, "a lesson in obedience." The elf looked up and caught sight of Bragolaur's eyes; there was wildness and madness to them, with something even more evil and shocking lurking behind. Legolas was _terrified_ for Enguina; she had been beaten, half-drowned, abused, and he had no idea what else Bragolaur was intending to do to them…to her.

"Please," he said, closing his eyes, trying to calm down and be reasonable. His chest ached and his head was pounding with the stress and strain of being so helpless. "Please, just tie her up again to the tree. I swear she will not try to escape, that she will stay still. Neither of us will try to escape again."

"Oh, I have already taken care of that, Prince," Bragolaur laughed softly. "She will most certainly _not_ try to escape again. Besides, you and I need to have a...bit of a chat."

Legolas lifted his head again, and noticed that several of Bragolaur's men were beginning to pack up and get ready to travel. Vilyath and several others stood motionless nearby. "A chat?" Legolas asked nastily, turning his gaze back to the elf. "What could you and I possibly have to talk about, you evil scheming son of an orc—" Bragolaur lifted his foot and set it down hard on Enguina's ribs, her body jerking sickly, and Legolas paled, lunging against the ropes again. " _No, no! Stop!_ "

"Temper, Prince, or there will be more trouble," he threatened as Legolas was gasping, his eyes fixed on Enguina.

"For the love of Ilúvatar…" Legolas whispered, his breath catching.

"Now, what was it that I wanted to ask you? Hmmm..."

"My Lord," Vilyath began softly from nearby, staring down at Enguina's battered face, "I think the girl has had enough."

He turned and snarled at her, lifting his hand as though to strike her. " _I_ will say when she has had enough!" Turning back to Enguina, Bragolaur reached down and took her tied hands in his. Once again, Legolas lunged for him and was prevented by the ropes.

"Stop, please! Stop _touching_ her..."

"Is it bothering you?" he said with a laugh, stroking her hands with his own.

"Why have you done that to her? Why did you hurt her? You had no right! What did you ask of her?" Legolas was asking questions and receiving no answers; he was so frustrated that he began working more urgently on the ropes. Rescue by Aragorn, or even the very Hand of Ilúvatar, could not come more quickly!

"You will see," the elf said softly, and then twisted Enguina's arms up above her head. She groaned, her head swimming; she had finally come to...quite painfully.

"Guin!" Legolas called, and Bragolaur began laughing again, maniacally.

" _Guin! Guin!_ " he mocked, and then laughed again, leaning down close to her face where she flinched immediately and tried to roll away from him. "Oh, do not _go_ anywhere, fair love. In fact, I think you need to stay _right_ where you are." And with those words, he drew a dagger from the sheath at his hip and plunged it down through the palms of both of her hands, driving it into the ground with brute strength. A gut-wrenching scream of pain tore from her throat, and Legolas saw white.

" _ **No!**_ " Legolas cried, beginning to yank against the ropes so hard he was tearing at his own skin. "Enguina! _Enguina!_ "

Enguina wailed in pain, writhing as she tried to pull her arms free, unable to be brave, unable to collect herself, unable to find a sense of anything but agony and terror. She brought her leg up swiftly and kicked Bragolaur in the ribcage with one bare foot, trying desperately to launch herself away and roll onto her side. He flew into a frenzy against her then, kicking her roughly with booted feet; it was only seconds before a crack was heard. It was a full ten seconds before she could breathe again.

"Bragolaur, please! Please _stop!_ I will do whatever you want! Just stop, _stop_!" Legolas begged, choking on fear; how could he protect her? _How?_

Enguina felt his hands on her ankles. Terror, full-on terror rushed through her and she lashed out with both feet; hearing cursing in Sindarin as she struggled, her pain was a memory compared to the fear encompassing her heart. One foot caught Bragolaur in the chin, and he elbowed her hard in the stomach as Legolas continued to yell at him. Still, she fought, and when he could not get the other ankle, he grabbed her throat in his vice-like fist. Unable to breathe, it did not take him long to wrestle her ankles together, throw his weight over her and bind them.

The fight had nearly left her; how _could_ she fight him? She laid still for half-a-moment, trying to catch her breath, her fingers trembling with pain, her shoulders trembling with exhaustion. She could not hear anything, could not see anything but Bragolaur's face, making its way toward her, inching up to press down near her ear and whisper into it.

"Y _ou remember this quite well, do you not?"_

How could she forget? That hill, the way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her, lunged at her, knocked her down, landed on top of her, his weight crushing her as they rolled over and over to the base of that hill; the way he had torn her dress, his hands everywhere bringing her pain and torment. The way his lips and hands had bruised her skin, the way those bruises had remained for weeks; how he had forced the dagger through the rope in her hands, how he had lashed her ankles together and then forced her legs apart brutally and fell between them...her whole body was shuddering with the remembrance of what he had done to her. No, she would never forget; he would never let her.

"Now," Bragolaur whispered, "lie still while I tell your lover a story."

" _Please_... _god_ , _please_..." she whimpered. There was no denying her fear now, no hiding it. She could not, even for Legolas's benefit; she heard him say her name, but she could not bear to look at him, her face burning with shame. She was terrified of what she knew was to come; and she prayed for _death_ before she would lose everything...especially the elf whose love she knew she could not live a day without. " _Please…_ "

"It is a _bit_ late for begging, do you not think?" he suddenly snarled, reaching down to slap her across the face.

"Ilúvatar! Bragolaur, you _bastard_ , stop!" Legolas cried again, straining against the ropes, scratching them against the tree as fast as he could. Getting to his feet, Bragolaur rested his foot upon Enguina's ribs.

"I can _easily_ break another one," he threatened, and she wrenched her eyes closed, tears and sweat pouring down her face. The sun was beginning to rise, and the men in the camp who had gathered around were waiting to head out. Mifer, Stetlan, and Hrigow stood not far from where Legolas was tied, Vilyath not far from them; all of them still watching.

"I am _begging_ you," Legolas said, and he poured every ounce of pleading into his tone, fear for her choking him. "Please stop hurting her... _please_...have you no mercy, no decency?"

" _Mercy?_ " he snarled, and he moved to Legolas's side and shoved his face into his. "Was there any mercy when someone did this to me? No! And there shall be no mercy for _her_ either!" He leaned back and returned to Enguina's side.

"Let...l-l-let me g-go," Enguina pleaded, her body shaking so badly she could barely speak. Bragolaur laughed at her.

"I _will_ let you go...after I tell a story and bestow my _wedding present_ to the happy couple." By the end of his words, he sneered, and then he turned back to Legolas.

"My Lord, _please_ ," Vilyath said from off to the side, "it is nearly dawn; we should be—"

" _Silence_!" he shouted. "We will leave when I say we will leave!" He turned back to Legolas. "I am going to finally answer your question, Prince. I am going to tell you the tale of how I received these scars."

Once again, Legolas launched himself forward, grunting with pain. "You filthy son of Morgoth! You are _out of your mind!_ " Desperate now, the bark was tearing the skin from his arms as he struggled to separate himself from the ropes that were preventing him from tearing out the elf's throat. He was going to do it...he could _picture_ himself doing it, blood _everywhere_...

" _No, Bragolaur,_ " Enguina whispered, beginning to cry softly. _Do not allow Legolas to hear the truth! Please, not this nightmare that I have borne for so long!_ Bragolaur kicked her in the side again, and she had no choice but to become quiet; the pain was excruciating.

" _Stop_ hurting her," Legolas gasped, but Bragolaur began as if he had not been interrupted at all.

"It was a summer morning, near a dawn much like this one," he said, much amused. "I was engaged in speaking to an elf on a very fair hill in my home, the woods of Lothlórien...you may know of it—Cerin Amroth. Well, this particular elf decided that she wanted nothing to do with me, even after I had asked for her hand. You see, she had led me to believe that she loved me; that she wanted my love and affection and that there was nothing in the world that she could ever want that I could not give her. So that morning, when she refused me, I decided that I would simply _take_ what I wanted."

" _Legolas_... _please do not listen_ ," Enguina begged, and Bragolaur lunged around. In one swift move, he tore the left sleeve from her tunic, causing her to cry out in pain with the jerking of the now very serious wounds in her hands, and grabbed her jaw in his hand. She tried to wrench away from him, but any struggle was useless as he jammed the fabric in her mouth, effectively silencing her.

" _Quiet_ now…I am speaking," he hissed at her, leaning back to look at the elf. He stayed kneeling beside her.

"Bragolaur, talk to _me_ and leave her out of it!" Legolas yelled. Enguina's tears were too much for him. She was _breaking_ in front of his eyes, and he was so helpless. _God, please...please Ilúvatar in heaven, where is Aragorn?_ He could hear Gimli shouting across the camp, unintelligible things, but still shouting.

"Oh, but do you not understand, Prince?" he said, a bit wickedly, a strange gleam in his eye, and he dragged a lazy hand along her face as she tried to turn away. "I cannot leave her out of it; she _is_ the elf. Enguina is my fair love, the one who was supposed to marry me. Instead, she toyed with me and twisted our love into a supposed fantasy...and so I took from her what I could get."

The sickness in Legolas's stomach threatened to overwhelm him. "W-what?"

"She would not give herself to me; she would not give me what I wanted, what I was _due_ , so I _took_ it...and I have never been kind in the taking." He gave a wicked smile, "Ask Vilyath." He glanced down at Enguina and nudged her broken ribs with his boot, toeing her until she opened her eyes in pain, gasping for breath, tears pouring down her face. "Now, where have I seen this before? Could it have been Cerin Amroth, at the base of that hill, with all the elanor and nephredil the ground could burst forth with, all around your beautiful golden hair?" He reached down and laid his hands on her chest, groping her breasts…and not-too-gently. Her back dug into the rock as she tried to writhe away.

Legolas's shock turned white once more. "You _sick—_ you _perverted maggot!_ " Wrenching himself against the tree, blood now pouring down his arms, he ignored the pain and _fought_ ; he _had_ to save her. _He had to!_ " _Stop touching her!_ _ **Stop**_ _! I will tear you limb from limb!_ " His face was burning, his stomach turning in his disgust and anger. "Enguina, hold on! Hold on, love!" He had not even realized he was crying until that moment.

 _This_ was the reason for all of her nightmares, all of the moments he had held her, all of the times she cried out in heart-wrenching grief, when she vomited from her pain, tearing wounds in her arms, gripping his tunic for dear life. The pain she had carried all of this time, that had caused her to distrust him, that had grieved her for so many nights, that had brought her running to Arwen and Aragorn more than it had to him... _ **he**_ , this wretched animal,was responsible for it. This bastard who stood before him, touching _his_ Guin, was the one who had wronged her so harshly. Never had he wanted to see someone die so horribly for what he had done. Whatever the worst punishment was that could be imagined, it should happen to the elf that stood in front of him.

Legolas remembered her words, _there are worse things than death._ How she could not even speak to him about it...but he had never imagined this. He had never thought that someone had touched her this way, had gone so far to hurt her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her closely, to tell her that he loved her so much, and yet he could do none of those things.

"You did not love her," Legolas choked angrily, tears on his face. "You cannot even _say_ that you loved her when you caused her so much suffering, hurt her so badly. You are a _monster_ , and you will suffer endlessly for what you have done to such an innocent life."

"Innocent?" he laughed. "Ah, Legolas, you are such a fool! What did I tell you? Do you remember my words? When you place your hands on a woman, you know where they belong. Did I not say that to you?" He grinned as Enguina's chest heaved under his hands. "Have you touched her yet? I was always completely enthralled by her breasts. She is… _so beautiful._ " Legolas forced back a sob as Bragolaur ran his hand down to her waist, her hips, and she was desperate to wrench away, her worst nightmares becoming reality again, that familiar pain spreading across her abdomen. Terror, agony, flooded her mind...and Legolas...he was there, he could _see_. She did not want him to _see…_

"Bragolaur, you must stop this," ordered Vilyath, moving closer, and holding out her hands peacefully. "This was _not_ the plan. The horses, the men are ready; let us move on to Thranduil and be done with—"

Bragolaur lunged off the ground so fast he was in her face before she even had time to blink, his fist hitting her in the chin, snapping her head up. She stumbled back, but he caught her arm and dragged her back to his fist that plowed roughly into her stomach. It was followed by an elbow to the back, which drove her to her knees. She stayed there on all fours, gasping for breath, trying to prevent herself from vomiting. Bragolaur straightened, breathing heavily.

"There is _nothing_ but this, until my word," he stated, quiet as death. "Do you understand me?" Vilyath did not move, could not respond, and he reached down and slapped her hard. "Do you understand me?" She nodded, and he raised his head and stared around at the others. "Do you understand me!?" he then screamed out lout, and many of his men nodded solemnly, while some simply stood watching.

Bragolaur turned back to Vilyath. "You _see_ , Prince?" he said, reaching down and taking her chin in his hand and raising her head enough to see her face. " _Submission_. _That_ is what makes a woman desirable; and once she has submitted, you take her again and again. There is no fight, no complaint." He released her face and her head hung, neck aching, jaw fractured, one arm wrapped around her throbbing stomach. Turning back to Legolas, Bragolaur bobbed at the waist. "And _that_ , Prince, is my gift to you. A submissive bitch, to do with as you please, broken and tamed—"

"I do not want that! Stop, Bragolaur, _please_!" Legolas begged. Bragolaur returned to Enguina and straddled her body, settling his weight directly over her pelvis as Legolas's cries became louder. The horrifying display became more obscene as he ground himself against her several times, and Enguina began sobbing and gagging, her stomach heaving.

" _You filthy Mordor rat! You scum from the depths of the pit!"_ Legolas screamed, now sobbing himself, the tree covered with the skin of his arms and back, his blood, what was left of the sides of his tunic soaked with it as he wrenched, desperate to reach her. _"I will kill you! I will kill you!_ "

Ignoring him, Bragolaur leered down at Enguina. "You remember _that_ do you not?" He reached down and stroked her neck, watching her flinch and recoil. "I _own_ you; I have since that day on Cerin Amroth. No one can do to you what I can with just one finger. You are _mine_ , Enguina." A whimper escaped her lips as he began tracing the outline of her breasts with one of his hands, the other trailing along her lovely neck. He leaned in close as he heard Legolas shouting behind him, cursing him, speaking words he never thought would come out of a civilized mouth like the Prince's.

But again, Bragolaur brushed those words aside to focus on the woman before him. Leaning close down to her face, she turned away from him, but that was exactly what he wanted. He caught the end of her ear in his mouth and began sucking on the end of it before biting it, leaving teeth marks and a trail of bruises all the way to the place where her tunic met her shoulder. By the time he reached the sensitive part of her throat, she was squealing in pain, frantic to free herself, to be rid of him…but there was nowhere to go. So he continued, Legolas half-sobbing, half-screaming, behind him, lunging at him against the ropes, tearing himself apart to reach her.

" _You heathen of all that is holy! How_ _ **dare**_ _you touch her?! How dare you lay your filthy hands on her?! Get away from her! Stop!_ _ **Stop!**_ "

Bragolaur moved back to her ear. " _I am going to take you now_ ," he whispered so that only she could hear him. Fresh tears fell on her face and she whimpered again in terror and agony; it made him smile. He pressed himself down against her, his hips pushing hard against hers as she began trembling from head to toe. " _And I intend to_ finish _this time…inside you._ " Leaning down, he bit the skin above her collarbone, and she thrashed her head, hitting his in her pain. It was an uncontrolled move, but it incited his anger and he belted her twice across the face before he lowered his mouth to her throat again and left more bruising.

She squealed again, her chest heaving under his hand with her sobs, and Legolas shouted as he watched Bragolaur reach back with a free hand for his second knife. " _Ilúvatar, no! God, please…Bragolaur, Bragolaur, I will do_ _ **anything! Anything!**_ _Just, please! Please, you sick…you evil…you spawn of Morgoth…_ " he muttered. " _Stop this…please…_ " He was _so close_ …not even five feet from him she was laid on the ground. Five feet more and he could hold her, comfort her, shield her with his body. Shredding his tunic, the rope, his very skin on the tree, he jerked back and forth without ceasing. Weeping, he tried again, watching Bragolaur's lips bruise her skin was eating him _alive_. " _Stop, you bastard!_ "

Bragolaur lifted his head and turned it towards Legolas. "She will have a bit of fun before the wedding," he sneered. "Consider it a…physical test, to see if she is suitable to be your wife. I will try her first, and then give her back to you."

" _Guin…Guin…_ " Legolas moaned, but Bragolaur moved with his knife, and with dexterity, he sliced open the front of her tunic from chest to navel, set the knife down beside her, and then tore the tunic the rest of the way, exposing her to the skin and displaying her upper body for the world. He stared at her for a full minute as she writhed beneath the iron grip of his legs, trying to free herself. She could not open her eyes, but it did not matter what she saw; she knew what every other person in the camp was seeing…what _Legolas_ was seeing. Her heart was shattering, breaking under the strain.

"I have waited far too long for this…" Bragolaur whispered aloud.

" _Please…please…do not—"_ Legolas began, but Bragolaur leaned forward and planted a kiss directly on her sternum between her breasts, touching her skin with his tongue. Her head thrashed from side to side, her body still trying to wriggle away, and as one hand fell to her left breast, the other reached up and tugged down on her wounded hands. Squealing and sobbing, the knife making the wounds bigger, Bragolaur's mouth moved on her; her whole body was shuddering under his touch.

"Enjoy it, fair love…" he whispered, "just enjoy it." He lifted his head and looked at Legolas, his eyes overloaded with lust. "See how she trembles?"

But Legolas was not looking at _him_. " _Guin, Guin,_ " he cried, " _Guin, look at me!"_ He begged her, but she could not; if there was something she could not do, it was look into Legolas's eyes ever again. She would never, ever again be worthy; she wanted to die. If she had a knife in her hand, she would have plunged it through her own heart if it were possible, such was her grief, her pain.

"Stop writhing around," Bragolaur suddenly growled, running out of patience with her. He lifted the knife and pressed the thin steel of the blade against her ribs, allowing her to cut herself on it. But how could she lie still? Slashes were forming on her skin as his mouth moved on her and she thrashed about beneath him, twisting and turning. At this, Legolas began screaming at him again, cursing him, and there was a faint snapping in the ropes holding him as he wrestled forward.

" _ **I will kill you!**_ " he cried aloud, sobbing. " _For every touch, I will bring it back on you a thousand-fold!"_

Some of the men had begun to turn away; hearing the dwarf swearing and cursing in the filthiest language of his kin. But this was far too much of a scene for Vilyath. Bragolaur had always been rough with her, but this was torture and assault in a way she had never seen him. Had he lost his _mind_? She could not possibly stand there and allow him to do something this despicable to another human being. Kidnapping was one thing, but agony, terror, and abuse in this way was not part of their arrangement…it was not in the plan!

It was one thing for _Vilyath_ to have given herself over to Bragolaur, let him use her, abuse her and force himself on her at moments of his choosing. _This_ was something else entirely; this elf had done nothing, had shown up to save Legolas through a battle with _Girith,_ for goodness sake, and she was being assaulted, _violated_. Enguina had not asked for this; her terror was plain, her anguish was _real._ And the suffering between the two of them, she and Legolas, between the _horror_ and the _grief_ …it was tearing her apart! She was _drowning_ in their pain; she was an elf, for goodness sake! It could not be endured! It _should_ not! How could she stand here and allow this to go on!?

There was only one answer to that; and it made her lunge forward and race to Enguina's side, snatching Bragolaur's arm and trying to drag him back from her.

"That is _enough_ , Bragolaur! _Enough_! My _gods_ , what do you plan to—" Her last word was cut off in a gurgle, shock spreading across her wide eyes, as Bragolaur slashed her deep across the throat with the knife he held. Her blood sprayed out as she clutched her neck and staggered backwards a few feet before losing her balance and dropping to her knees, dead almost the moment she hit the ground.

" _Vilyath!_ " Legolas cried out, horrified at the senseless carnage. Omarom rushed forward as Bragolaur immediately turned back to Enguina. Now he was in a frenzy, his hands racing over her, pressing, prodding, pinching; his lips and teeth, biting, cutting, kissing. There was no pleasure in this at all for her; it was pure domination. He _wanted_ her and he was _taking_ her.

"You killed her!" Omarom cried, lifting her body part-way into his lap. "You _killed_ her." Bragolaur's men stared, dumb-founded at what had happened, but he ignored them, so focused in his lust for Enguina that Vilyath mattered next-to-nothing. His hands began sliding downwards, his mouth still focused on her chest, and he slipped a hand down between her legs.

All hope was lost, if there ever had been any hope. Enguina's lungs were frozen; she could not breathe. Every last one of her nightmares was brought to fruition in this: she could feel his fingers on her thighs, the way he squeezed and touched and forced himself and his weight down on her again, thrusting gently against her hips. The phantom pain inside her began to build and the fear overcame her. Her stomach tightened and she began retching.

Bragolaur reached up and yanked the cloth out of her mouth, and slapped her face to the side, cheek to the ground as she vomited. He held her there until he thought she was done and then continued moving his other hand on her thighs.

" _I think it is time to remove the rest of these clothes_ ," he whispered, and her teeth began chattering together.

" _Please_ ," she begged, her voice barely audible over her weeping, " _not in front of—"_

"Oh _yes_ , on _display_ for him!"

Legolas began to yell then, a prayer so loud it was heard by every soul in the camp, even if they pretended they could not hear him. With every breath he had left in his lungs he was yanking and tearing and begging and fighting towards her. He had promised her, sworn to her, that as long as he lived he would not let the darkness of her dreams find her, own her. He _saw_ Bragolaur touching her in ways and places that were beyond comprehension; she was _sobbing_ in his head, crying out for him whether she knew it or not. He had never felt such agony; it was tearing him apart from the inside out. His arms were pouring blood now, and he was nearly delirious with grief, but he wailed his prayer to Ilúvatar, begging for aid in ways beyond words:

 _See, O Father! How distressed I am!_

 _I am in torment within and my heart is disturbed!_

 _My groans are many and my heart is faint!_

 _He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty_

 _I will shout unto the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress! My God in whom I trust!"_

 _Surely he will save us from the fowler's snare, and from the deadly pestilence_

 _He will cover us with His feathers and under His wings we will find refuge;_

 _His faithfulness will be our shield and rampart!_

 _We will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,_

 _Nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday._

 _A thousand may fall at our side, ten thousand at our right hands,_

 _But it will not come near us!_

 _For the Lord looks down from the Heavens and_ _ **sees**_

 _I called on His name from the depths of the pit and he heard my cry,_

 _He came near when I called to him, and he said, "Do not fear!"_

 _RIP!_ Enguina whimpered, cried; Bragolaur laughed; and Legolas could not open his eyes to look. He knew where Bragolaur's hands had been, what he had been touching…what clothes Enguina had left, what the ripping sound was. He had to get free to stop him, to punish him, to save her. He fought _harder_ as he cried out the words. He _dragged_ the ropes back and forth, any tunic between him and the tree completely shredded and the skin of his back burning in pain. But he did not care; he _could_ not! So he struggled on, and repeated his wailing. No one moved to stop him or silence him. Five feet and he could tear Bragolaur's throat out with his bare hands, five feet and he could hold Guin in his arms, five feet and all of this would be over…he could almost feel the snapping of Bragolaur's neck, the hot blood pouring over his fingers as he wrenched and broke the elf's body until all that was left were unrecognizable pieces. Five feet and two inches of rope were all that stood between him and her salvation…

 _Ilúvatar, help me…_ _ **help me!**_ _…just five feet…five...feet!_


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: The italics here are from Psalm 3 from The Bible. I don't own that, nor did I write it! The song used later is "I Will Lift My Eyes" by Bebo Norman, which I also don't own and didn't write! :O)

* * *

It was dawn, and Arwen had smelled the fumes of a campfire just moments before Aragorn had seen the last smoke of one over the treetops. They had been galloping for hours, the horses giving everything they had for the last few miles. Something _drove_ the four of them; they had covered a day's ride in less than half the time, and were shocked when they realized they had actually caught their quarry. Dismounting and readying their weapons, they never even tethered the boys; they were a little more than a mile off, so they could call Brego and Asfaloth when necessary, and there they would be safe from the battle. It was not very easy to sneak towards a camp in secret when you were riding. The couple was making their way through the trees silently when they began to hear the screaming.

At first, it was unintelligible; there were words, but none could be understood. Who was screaming? What were they yelling about? There were no words spoken between them, but both of their hearts began to race. Aragorn did not even need to look at her to communicate; their pace quickened, and their silent stalk became a light jog through the undergrowth. The crunching was too loud, Aragorn knew, but they were too worried, their hearts flooded with fear.

 _Ilúvatar, please…Ilúvatar, be with us…Ilúvatar, be our sword and our shield…Ilúvatar..._

Their prayers flooded their hearts and they were continuous; as one they prayed, their minds and hearts connected in the special bond they shared. The yelling grew louder, and within a few seconds it became clear _who_ was yelling…and it was not yelling, exactly. It was _wailing_ ; a voice flooded with pain, with grief. The voice made the hair on the back of their necks' stand up and gave them chills. It was _Legolas's_ ; they had never heard his voice raised in such a way and filled with such anguish. The elf had a quiet voice, and to hear this was so unnatural, so frightening. They could hear him sobbing aloud in the silence of the woods, even a mile from the camp:

 _O Lord! How many are my foes! How many rise up against me!_

 _But you are a shield around me, O Lord! You bestow glory on me and lift up my head!_

 _To the Lord I cry aloud and he answers me from his holy hill!_

 _I lie down and sleep, I wake again because the Lord sustains me_

 _I will not fear the tens of thousands drawn up against me on every side!_

Their jog became a bit louder along the forest floor and then a scream of pain fell on their ears; a woman's voice, clear as daylight—and both of them knew that cry far too well to misunderstand who it was. They had heard it brokenly crying on their doorstep in the early morning hours or from their divan as Arwen held her or Aragorn brewed her tea. It was not only a cry of pain, but of deep suffering, as though someone could not wake her from the nightmare. No, this time, it was far too obvious that the nightmare was real. _Enguina!_

Aragorn did not have time to blink before Arwen bolted into the trees ahead of him. He broke into a dead run as well, but she was lighter on her feet and was several lengths ahead of him in no time. _Enguina! Enguina!_ It was their single thought; they _knew_ …they did not even need to be present in the camp to _see_ what was happening. Aragorn controlled his grief, using it to fuel his body into a weapon and charge through the undergrowth as though it was not even there. They were crashing through the woods now, scaring all the wildlife away within a hundred feet; limbs and thorns and shrubs ignored even as they were tearing at their clothes and skin.

 _Nononononononono!_ The mantra was continuous in Arwen's head; disbelieving, praying that it was not possible, that there was no chance Gimli and Enguina could have found Bragolaur before them. There were several more anguished cries, close together, strange sounding, and she pushed herself beyond her limits. Flat out, faster than she ever had run in her life for any reason. She was _blindly_ running now, her heart bursting with terror; she _had_ to reach Enguina. There was no choice; nothing else mattered. Pain speared through her, tearing up her chest as she raced and she forgot tiredness, pain, any ailments before this moment. If he had _touched_ her… _one hair_ …he would be put to death—she would see to it. She was coming…she was coming and she would kill him. _Enguina! Enguina!_

Moments remained before they would arrive, Arwen at least fifty feet before Aragorn. Ahead, they could hear Legolas's voice even louder:

 _Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God!_

 _Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked!_

 _Answer me when I call to you, O my righteous God!_

 _Give me relief from my distress, be merciful to me and hear my prayer!_

And Arwen heard it before Aragorn for she was closer: pain-filled whimpering, gasping, little squeaks of air trapped in a throat and she knew what she would find when she burst through the bushes—she would not even slow down. Arwen never thought she could run so fast that the trees whipping past her would make her sick to her stomach; she never thought that she could feel such a burning hatred for another living creature; she had never felt a furious fire consuming her as she did in this moment; and she never thought that she would ever be in this situation again.

Her heart broke.

She was too late _again._

* * *

Legolas was numb with pain. He did not know what he was feeling; was it his pain? Was it Enguina's? It was all his now as he sprang against the ropes, his last efforts to be free…or die trying.

It was all so clear; how could he tear his eyes away from her trembling form, bruised, broken, bleeding? Bragolaur had abused her in so many more ways than just this. She was naked, yet he was almost completely clothed. One hand cruelly held her mouth to smother her screams, the other was holding her hip still on the ground, one of his knees pressing firmly on one of hers, the knife scraping against her belly as his hips began to move against her, his mouth somewhere in the region of her breasts. There was no fight left in her; she was barely conscious in the throes of his passion. She was sobbing in exhaustion, suffering, anguish…there were no words to describe the state she was in. Enguina had been writhing beneath him, but no more. She could not escape; she could not be free; she was _dying_ with each move he made. He had her, just as he said he would.

His mouth moved to her ear and though Legolas could not hear what he was saying, he knew Bragolaur was whispering something to her. Her chest heaving beneath him, she could only lay, and made no attempt to respond. He slapped her hard across the face and gripped her chin as she gasped, her pants whines of pain. He muttered something else, and she blinked, her chest now heaving with her sobs as she responded in terror to whatever he had said.

And then Bragolaur shoved brutally against her; Enguina screamed against his hand, her upper body bucking in an attempt to refuse him—but he was simply too strong. Holding her hip down firmly to the ground, there was a smile on his face and an expression of pleasure that made Legolas choke on the soup that Vilyath had fed him. Wrenching and heaving against his bonds, ignoring the pain and the blood pouring from his ruined arms and back, the bark shredding his skin and tearing him apart, screaming psalms of deliverance to the One, he fought. He twisted, ignoring everything else except his single-minded focus; he had pledged to his beloved that he alone would defend her from the consuming darkness…that he would reach out, with Ilúvatar's strength, scoop her into his arms, hold her, and protect her with his love everlasting.

But nothing that Bragolaur had done before compared to the harshly whispered words that came from his mouth as he leaned in close to the tear-stained, bruised and bloody mess that used to be her face.

" _Take it all, you little-"_

 _SNAP! RIP!_

With those words, Legolas lunged to his knees, roaring like a lion; his arms broke free and they swung forward of their own accord as he closed the distance, reaching for Bragolaur's throat. There were shouts of concern from his men, _shock_ that Legolas had freed himself made even greater by his rapidly deteriorating condition. He nearly fell over his own feet, but made it far enough to wrap an arm around the elf's neck and _yank_ backwards with every last bit of strength he had left in his body.

Bragolaur shouted and Legolas continued to roar, trying to twist and yank to break the neck he held with arms that did _not_ want to do his will. The passion-crazed elf snatched Enguina's arm with the hand that had been gripping her mouth just before Legolas could pull him completely free of her, and her wail of pain from the increased pressure on her bleeding hands was just enough to make Legolas hesitate; it was all the elf needed. Bragolaur reached up to slash him with the knife and Legolas's knocked it from his hand with a swift hit from his left. Without the knife, Bragolaur reached for the elf's broken ribs with one hand and pressed as hard as he could; the other flat-palmed Legolas in the chest.

Legolas's arms loosened; he could not breathe and he fell immediately into a fit of choking. Bragolaur leaned forward and rammed his elbows into the elf, shoving him off-balance. He stumbled back a step and fell, uncoordinated, to the ground. Bragolaur laughed at his attempt and immediately moved back to Enguina's pelvis and she cried out as she felt him fall against her again.

Legolas could have been on his last breath and he would have used it trying to stop him. Dragging himself to his knees, he lunged forward and, even as Hrigow and Stetlan lunged forward themselves to stop him, snatched Bragolaur's knife from the ground. Launching himself forward, he plunged the dagger down through the right side of Bragolaur's shoulder, forcing it in nearly to the hilt. Mifer and Stetlan were upon him a second later, knocking him off to the side and crushing him against the ground, but the dagger was in and Bragolaur himself was yelling aloud in pain.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was exactly five seconds when Bragolaur's men knew that something was about to happen. In those five seconds, they could have brought their weapons to bear, they might have turned towards the sound they heard, or they might have warned one another. Instead, they simply stood speechless over what was transpiring in the camp, over what had already transpired, and therefore were caught completely unaware of the carnage that was about to befall them.

Arwen came bursting out of the underbrush at nearly twenty miles an hour, swinging Hadhafang as though it was an extension of her arm. She was completely silent, tearing through the first three men as though they were parchment; an arm here, a head there, gore everywhere. There was no time for clean kills; there was no time for thought; there was only time for action. The others, who had been completely unprepared for an attack, fled at the sight of her; she looked positively wild, _vicious_ even—one could say that they never would have known her—and her eyes took in every bit of the camp as her momentum carried her across it. Aragorn arrived moments later at roughly her speed, and their hearts shattered at exactly the same moment, so connected were they through their bond.

They would forever be unable to describe how they felt in that moment; their minds sharing their thoughts of horror, agony, and anguish: Unspeakable grief. They had been too late. Their worst fears were realized. Gimli, tied to a tree surrounded by two large men. Legolas's condition, beyond words. Enguina, naked on the ground. Enguina, naked on the ground with serious wounds. Enguina, naked on the ground with _Bragolaur atop her_ …his hands in places they should never be… _God, he was pushing against her and she was sobbing and wailing and—nononono—_

Arwen's mind went white within his and Aragorn saw her whirl and hew a man's head from his shoulders as she began to cut a path towards her right, direct to Enguina. Aragorn went left, dispatching two men who were just about to bring their weapons to bear on his wife from behind, and he was _roaring_ with the fire of battle, with the heat of it, with the desire to save his loved ones from this utter darkness. Slaying as he went, he heard Gimli shouting and turned in that direction. It only took him a moment to slice the one guard to bits, and then he went for Gimli, slicing through his bonds and releasing the dwarf from the tree. The nearby guard, Hrigow, urgently made a break for his sword. Aragorn started for him, but Gimli's voice caught his attention.

"Get 'em, Aragorn!" Gimli spat, snatching his axe with his left hand and balancing it with his right palm. " _This one is_ _ **mine**_ _!_ " He snarled a dwarvish curse and launched himself at the man, slicing and hewing as he went. Aragorn turned aside, determined the dwarf could handle himself, and began cutting a path toward his wife, who was desperately going to need his help in a few moments.

Arwen had nearly reached Bragolaur when Mifer caught her sword on his, trying to shove her back. By sheer will, she overpowered him, knocking his sword aside before stabbing him straight through the heart, withdrawing Hadhafang and spinning just as Stetlan lunged to his feet. He shoved her back away from Legolas and Bragolaur and Enguina, and she desperately fought him. She could not match his strength; he was _huge_ , and he kept pushing her back. Her eyes were drawn away from him in her despair: Legolas lay motionless on the ground where he had been and she was not getting to Enguina quickly…and that terrified her. For a fleeting moment, her eyes met Bragolaur's as he turned to see what was going on in the camp and the fury of knowing it was her launched him to his feet.

Taking advantage of her serious distraction, Stetlan hammered against her blade and her injured wrist fired pain down her arm. Omarom fired an arrow at her, though it did not hit where he had intended. He had meant for it to kill her, but she was moving too quickly and it lodged into the front of her left shoulder. Stetlan grinned, thinking that this was the end for her, but Arwen surprised him. Rolling with the blow, she spun away and then reengaged, this time, bringing Hadhafang to bear with all the strength she could muster. There was no finesse in these few moves; she needed him down so she could get to _Bragolaur_. Raining blows and hammering his sword back towards him, she just kept coming and Omarom could not get a clear shot—and then his own death came from Andúril. Arwen lunged forward one last time, brought the sword down in a two-handed blow, and bashed Stetlan's sword into his own face, blinding him and slicing open his head. She was leaping over his body in a moment, crossing paths with Aragorn a few steps before he was at Legolas's side. He let her race past him as Bragolaur began to stumble away, clearly rushing for a weapon.

Arwen was on his heels; she could not stop. She could not make sure Enguina was all right. That had been her mistake the first time, why he had escaped, and she _had_ to finish the job this time, had to trust that Aragorn would see to Enguina. The situation was so similar it made her physically ill. She had not even known she was crying until she felt the sob catch in her throat. Struggling to breathe, she gained on him, hearing the sounds of Gimli's axe somewhere behind her.

Aragorn was the Healer, and at this moment, she was the _Killer_. Adrenaline and grief fueling her into an inconsolable rage, she lunged for Bragolaur and slashed him across the back. He threw himself to the ground and came up with his sword, catching hers as she struck down for a killing blow. Even with an injured shoulder, he was very strong, and he punched forward into her gut, knocking her back. As she stumbled from the unexpected shove, she slashed at his throat, Hadhafang reaching for the sting of his flesh. She caught him across the chest with it instead, spraying his face with blood. Bragolaur launched to his feet and she was there again. Their blades crossed. It was him…and her. No one else existed.

" _You!_ " Bragolaur hissed in her face. "Here _again_ , too _late,_ you little _Ranger's whore!_ "

" _Die_ ," she forced out and her eyes were so full of flame. " _Die, you filthy bastard!_ "

She struck him with her foot, knocking him backwards from the crossed blades and followed him, slashing a long stripe down his thigh—clearly, she had been aiming for something far more precious. Furious now, they exchanged several blows before he knocked aside her blade. He struck the shaft of the arrow that still remained lodged in her shoulder with his fist, seeking to do as much damage as possible. He grabbed the fletching in his hand and dragged it to the right, expecting her to reach for him and prevent the crippling pain he knew it would cause. Instead of recoiling, Arwen yanked in the _other_ direction and the shaft snapped an inch from her shoulder. Now, shortened, he could not use it against her as he shoved her and she stumbled back half-a-meter.

Holding the broken shaft and his sword, he snapped at her, "You think you can best _me?_ "

"I will _kill_ you for laying a hand on her," she said, her voice a snarl of rage. Raising Hadhafang, she charged him again, ignoring the roaring pain and slashing him twice before he could really protect himself. _Fear_ was what he felt as his eyes flashed to hers, and for a moment his life moved before his eyes. Arwen was _going_ to kill him; she _would_ kill him if he did not escape or kill her first.

He tried killing her first. After a few more exchanged blows and with a dagger deep in his right shoulder, he was tiring. She seemed like a whirlwind, ready to push herself and give everything to take him down. Knocking her blade again, he struck at her with the shaft, directly towards her face but she flung up an arm. Though the shaft pierced her forearm, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make; he found himself suddenly _way_ too close to her. Gasping, he felt her sword slash him across the mid-section and as he stumbled back, pierce him through the hip—again, far too close to what she must have been aiming for.

"You little _bitch_!" he groaned and he yanked back, pulling himself off her blade. He _had_ to run from her, there was no way he could win—these injuries were too much. He kicked her knee, knocking it to the side at an odd angle and yanking his foot back before she could swing at it. Bragolaur took for the trees.

There was no way, even with a twisted knee, she could not catch him. This time, her lunge was true and she caught him across the lower back with her blade. The solid hit tore through his flesh, his muscle, and his spine; he suddenly felt nothing from his waist down and his body gave out. Stumbling forward, a scream on his lips, Bragolaur fell and rolled over onto his back, raising his sword a final time to head her off, hoping to impale her as her momentum carried her forward.

Arwen was too smart for his desperate hope. Spinning the sword sideways, her lips pulled back over her teeth like a feral snarl, she slashed both of his hands off at the wrists. They flew away along with his sword and he screamed aloud, staring at the stumps of his arms. There was no more time to pass as he stared up at her for a fraction of a second. That was all the time he had before she raised Hadhafang and stabbed the blade directly down into his skull, plunging it as deeply as she could. Nearly half the length of the blade went into him and the earth before she yanked it out and then separated his head from his shoulders.

That part of the nightmare was over.

When Arwen had passed Aragorn going for Bragolaur's throat and he had allowed her, there was nothing the man was going to do to him in her place. This was closure, and though he wanted to destroy Bragolaur himself, the suffering of the two elves laying on the ground required his immediate attention. Legolas was in grave condition, and Aragorn needed to see to him almost immediately, hearing his labored breathing. The trouble was that he could not allow Enguina to stay there one moment longer. He reached down and tore Stetlan's cloak from his neck. Not wasting any time, he threw it over Enguina's quaking form, covering her and trying to keep her from going into shock. He drew his knife and knelt down beside her, barely touching her skin as he sliced through the rope on her ankles and then reached for her hands. She was nearly incoherent at the moment; suffering reigned in her world. He sliced her wrists free and then wrapped a hand around the dagger that held hers, yanking it up and out of the earth. She cried out with the sudden pain, but her hands came free.

Murmuring her name as she sobbed, he had to act quickly to prevent her from hemorrhaging; her hands were severely bleeding now. He had nothing to use to stem the bleeding, and she needed the cloak that was draped over her, so he tore the sleeves from his own tunic, wrapped them around each hand and tied them tightly. He finally looked down into her face then, and saw what Bragolaur had done to her. Nearly physically sick at the bruises and the bite-marks and the blood from the wounds on her head, he laid his fingertips against her cheek. Her skin was clammy and cold.

Enguina tried to turn away but she could barely move; she had no strength left. Just the brush of fingers on her face caused her stomach to revolt and she began vomiting, her whole body in tremors of terror. _He_ was back; _he_ was there; _he_ was going to enter her again, bite her, kiss her, force himself on her. The horror was too great.

Aragorn grabbed her shoulder and turned her on her side, allowing her to breathe, even though she clearly had other serious injuries. He laid a hand in her hair, but she could barely feel it, such was her suffering. She needed arms around her, holding her, but they could not be his, they could not be a man; that would destroy her right now. He looked up and saw Arwen splattered with blood, Hadhafang falling, over and over, piercing Bragolaur's body as he lay in pieces on the ground at her feet. Taking Enguina's shoulder in his hands, he gently rolled her onto her back and towards her other side, into him. Before he could roll her all the way over, she began gasping for breath; her terror was overtaking her heart, her lungs and she could not get enough. Struggling to breathe, her heartbeat began to grow more rapid.

"Enguina _…_ " he called gently, "Enguina, listen to my voice. Try to take deep breaths. Calm down; easy…easy, breathe…listen…shhh…" He lifted his head, hearing the sounds of Gimli's harsh cry and the final swish of an axe through the air, and fixed his eyes on his wife. She plunged the sword down through him and her knees gave out, her hand still on the hilt; her face stained with tears. " _Arwen!_ " he called her, but whether she could not hear him or simply did not, he was unsure.

Wrapping the cloak more tightly around Enguina to keep her warm, he left her side, cursing himself; he could not be in every place at once, and he was moving too slowly. Hurrying to the place where Bragolaur was now in pieces, he reached out and grabbed Arwen's hand, tugging it free from the hilt. She seemed to come back to herself at his touch, staring up at him. Releasing her, he took her face between his hands.

"Arwen," he said gently, "Enguina needs you desperately, and Legolas needs me. I cannot be in two places at once. I need you." He released her face, but reached down and took her bloodied sword-hand, pulling her along with him, leaving the sword jutting out of the elf. Arwen stumbled to her feet to follow him, ignoring her pains. Seeing Enguina lying on the ground on her side forced her to a limping run, the knee injury clearly paining her. Aragorn was torn; he had no time to see to her.

"Arwen, you are _hurt_ —"

"Leave it," she cried and he obeyed, truly having no other choice. He went to Legolas and whistled high and long into the woods.

" _Enguina! Enguina!_ "Arwen fell to her knees, and then nearly fell on her side as her injured knee took the pressure. Forcing herself to ignore the agony, she laid her hands on Enguina's face, stroking her cheek and her hair. Then she was crying again, in pain for her friend, the way she had been hurt, what had been done, how she had been abused. "Oh, Enguina…Enguina, forgive me! _Forgive me_!" she cried, and she wrapped her arms around her and gently pulled her into her body, clutching her closely. Enguina was half-sitting up in her arms as Arwen pressed her battered face to her chest. Enguina's wounds needed to be cared for, but there was no way possible Arwen could do that first. Comfort was necessary for the pain she was in; the grief just poured off of her.

Enguina barely heard her, but she felt her and knew it was Arwen. She could barely breathe and she was freezing, but she lost herself in the arms and comfort of her friend. Her tears came harder, and her fingers clutched at Arwen's tunic, her face buried in Arwen's breast and she sobbed, losing herself completely to the despair she felt. _Legolas…Legolas…_ The man she loved would love her no more; it was impossible…and she could not live without him. His touch, his words, his smile had become as drugs to her; she _needed_ him to survive, to breathe, to live at all. In that moment, Enguina resigned herself to heartbreak, to death, and such was her pain that she wept terribly, burying herself in the arms of her friend.

Aragorn lowered himself to Legolas's side and immediately began removing the elf's tattered tunic remains so he could see the most serious wounds. A hand impossibly clutched Aragorn's wrist, and he looked down into Legolas's face; the elf's eyes were cracked open, his body in a complete state of disarray and illness.

" _Guin_ …" he whispered, his head half-falling to the side. Aragorn touched his face and felt the burning fever raging against the infection in the elf's body.

"Arwen is with her," he replied, and his breath caught and he chewed on his lower lip. His voice became harsh with sorrow. "I am so sorry, Legolas…we were not here…we did not—"

"Do not," he said. "You _came_ ; Ilúvatar brought you here." His eyes rolled up into his head and Aragorn thought he had passed out. "You and Arwen…like two of the Valar of Heaven…come to bring us home."

Aragorn knew part of him was serious, and the other part of him was delirious with fever. "I can hear the river, and I need to get you there. Forgive me, friend; you are in great need."

"It will not matter," he murmured, shaking his head. "I may not be with you much longer; I am already fading…"

"Do _not_ say such things." Aragorn slipped his arms underneath him and bore him up, feeling the tears in Legolas's skin. "You are a fool," Aragorn said softly to him, staring at the wounds up and down his arms and knowing that what would greet him when he turned the elf over would not be pleasant.

"Would you have done any different?" the elf choked out, the pain he was in clear on his face.

"No," Aragorn said, his voice filled with grief. "I would be dead," he agreed, "before I could watch such a thing." He knew what Legolas had done; the ropes near the tree and the blood all over it were enough of a telling. It was clear what path he had taken, and that he had gotten to Bragolaur even in his condition.

"Can you hear her?" Legolas gasped. "Her pain cuts through my heart like a knife. It stabs me in the chest; she is _crying_ for me, even if she does not know it." He began to cough and choke, his face a mask of pain.

"Shh," Aragorn said softly. "You need to conserve your strength; think about breathing."

Legolas could have laughed at the man's words had he the will. There was nothing in his head except Enguina, and there would not be until he could hold her in his arms again. "I…I _ache_ to hold her."

"You cannot," he said gently. "I am afraid, Legolas, that touching her now would only make things worse by a hundred-fold."

"Aragorn—"

"We will talk about it when you are healing," he replied. Legolas needed to rest, and he was, of course, so stressed he could not possibly do that when his worry for Enguina consumed him. "Legolas, Brego will be here in moments with the herbs I need. I am going to make you sleep," he told him.

"But, _Enguina_ —"

"There is nothing you can do for her right now," he told him. "You need to rest and recover. When you are healing, she might be in a state enough to talk to you. She cannot now; you need to understand this. No matter what you want, Legolas, she cannot…Arwen must take care of her in our stead. Rest now."

As soon as Aragorn's words ended, Legolas could hear him muttering soft Elvish and then felt himself drifting away. His last thoughts were a prayer for Enguina; he did not worry for himself, he could not. His only thoughts were of her and of the man who had hurt her. He heard the soft sounds of a trotting horse and then he was gone.

* * *

Asfaloth stood near the edge of the trees, nibbling on branches there; Brego had long ago taken the path to the river and Aragorn. On the far northern edge of the camp appeared Lómë and Firgenwine; the two of them had also heard Aragorn's whistle and had come jogging up as well, knowing his call, as he spent so much time in the stables with all of them. Gimli, who was in the process of disposing of the bodies of the dead, was the first to see them as Firgenwine nickered at him.

"Ah, lass! You made it!" Gimli went to the pony and stroked her face, his hand now wrapped to protect his broken fingers. He then turned to Lómë. "I need your saddle bags, boy."

He took his time; being forced to use one hand was not an easy task, but he managed. Once he had taken out everything he needed, he walked slowly toward the place where Enguina and Arwen sat together. He had heard everything, and seen most of what had transpired with Bragolaur, what he had done to her. There were no words of comfort that a dwarf could offer at a time like this. He could be useful…that was what was needed at the moment. He set down the fresh set of Enguina's clothes that he had removed from her saddle bag near them; but he did not get close enough to touch her himself. He did not want to; it would only hurt her now.

Gimli had taken out the last five of Bragolaur's men. There was no one in the camp left alive, and the body count was stacked high, burning like a bonfire in the center of camp. He was a filthy, blood-soaked mess, but he had never felt as much relief as he felt right now, watching the bodies burning. As he turned back to tending the fire, his eye caught on Arwen slowly rubbing Enguina's back through the cloak, trying to hold it tighter against her and warm her up. Seeing the dried blood on the back of Enguina's hair, it struck him that she was also seriously wounded, and some warm water and a towel might be something that would very much help. Anything he could do, he would do. He walked forward with more purpose.

Arwen still rested her head upon Enguina's, holding her tightly against her. The sobs had died down now, though tears still fell on Enguina's face; Arwen's tunic was already soaked. She thought that Enguina must be exhausted, that she should rest, close her eyes for a few hours if she could. The older elf also had wounds that seriously needed to be cleaned and cared for, and she was bleeding from several different places, not to mention the damage to her hands. The hands, at least, Aragorn had been able to wrap tightly, but they would need medicine and healing…neither of which Arwen had at the moment. She could take care of Enguina's face and the more minor injuries she bore.

There was a clank off to her right, and she lifted her head to see Gimli setting down water and clean cloth. He shuffled back and forth, appearing a bit embarrassed when she saw him. "There's a set of clean clothes here," he mumbled, "and I'm going to get wraps from Asfaloth's saddle bags—I know you always have some. There's warm water, and I put some herbs in it. It's not much, I know, but—"

"It will help, Gimli," Arwen said softly, in that voice of hers that could soothe and comfort anyone. "Thank you for your kindness."

"It's the least I can do," he muttered, and then he went to Asfaloth.

Arwen tightened her arms around Enguina in a gentle hug. "Sweet one," she said gently, her hand cupping the back of her head against her breast, "you need to rest, and you have wounds that need attention. You are still trembling; are you cold?"

Enguina did not know if she could answer; her throat was raw from screaming and crying. Every facial expression brought her pain and she ached everywhere…she tried not to think of it at the moment, tried to press away the overwhelming agony she had experienced, tried to collect herself. " _Freezing_ ," she whispered, her voice hoarse, her lips bruised and split.

Arwen wrapped the cloak even more tightly around her, bundling her inside it, and then taking her shoulders in her hand gently began to lean her back from her chest. "Let me wash your face first, and then we can take care of these others so we can get you dressed," she said, her voice still soothing. Tears were still spilling from Enguina's eyes, and she kept them tightly closed, even though it must have been painful. Arwen swallowed the lump in her own throat, and shoved her grief aside. " _You do not need to open them if you cannot._ "

It was difficult for Enguina to be away from Arwen's chest; Arwen was security, her heartbeat lending Enguina focus, strength; Arwen was warmth, and the moment her face was not pressed to her, she was shuddering again. A whimper escaped her lips as Arwen leaned away to draw the water and towel closer. Fear, despair had taken her heart; she could not fight it back.

"I am here," Arwen told her, pressing her hands to Enguina's face. "You are not alone; I am with you. I will not leave your side, sweet one." Enguina drew a ragged breath, and Arwen turned, soaking the cloth in warm water.

Enguina's mind, undistracted by anything else, had to acknowledge the worst pain she felt; her abdomen filling with agony. She could barely sit still, could not straighten her back, and she rocked backwards, trying to alleviate the pressure on her body from what he had done to her. Hot tears spilled down her face as she felt the imaginary him pressing into her, shoving, forcing his way into her body. Her head spun, and she gagged, but there was nothing left in her stomach to heave.

Arwen leaned back toward her, catching her hand on Enguina's shoulder just as she rocked backward, pain etched into her face. "Enguina?" she asked, and she watched as the older elf's body contracted, but she did not retch. "Enguina?"

" _Arwen, it hurts!_ " she choked out, fresh tears spilling down her face, and Arwen suddenly realized how much pain Enguina was really in. Swallowing hard and forcing herself to remain collected, Arwen turned her head and called out to Gimli; there were other areas, other wounds that needed to be treated first, and Enguina's face was not one of them. The dwarf hurried over but stopped before he got too close to Enguina.

"I need the extra blankets from the horses," she told him softly, "and any other clean cloths you can bring me." She lifted her eyes from Enguina's face. "And then I need some time."

The dwarf was no fool; he knew what she was asking from him immediately, and then he was off, getting what she asked for, placing it down, and making himself as scarce as possible. He took Firgenwine, Lómë, and Asfaloth and led them further into the woods to find more grazing area and to untack the poor beasts who had been riding hard for days.

"Lie down, love," Arwen whispered to Enguina, and she carefully helped her lay back on a blanket, pillowing her head with another. She slipped her hand beneath the cloak and took Enguina's hand gently in her own, drawing it up to her lips and pressing them against Enguina's fingers. " _I know this is going to be hard for you…but you have to let me see…you have to let me help you…you cannot do this alone_."

Lying there, trembling, Enguina knew very well that she could do none of this alone, but she did not want Arwen doing it either. It should not have been necessary; it should not have been _real_. Her body _hurt_ ; he had _hurt_ her…and once again she contemplated death. Her shame showed clearly on her face, but she still could not look into Arwen's eyes.

"Do not be ashamed, love. Let me help you," she whispered, stroking her forehead with her hand. "You do not need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you; they are gone…all gone, dead. _Please_ …"

Pain pulsed through Enguina, making her hand tighten on Arwen's as a grimace crossed her face. She found it difficult to breathe for a moment, and then remembered her damaged ribs. " _Make it stop_ ," she whimpered, her eyes tightly squeezed shut.

"I will; I swear I will make it stop. I promise."

With those words, Arwen began taking care of Enguina's many wounds. She was in pain, bleeding from his roughness; she had more marks on her abdomen and ribs from the knife he held to her skin than Arwen cared to count, though she was very grateful most were not deep; the bites and the bruising and bites made Arwen sick to her stomach, trailing across her breasts and onto her shoulder up her neck all the way to her ear. Arwen took her time with each wound, wrapping with bandages where necessary, especially her broken ribs and the cuts from Girith. Wherever she was not working, she kept covered; Enguina was cold, and she was still trembling. She stayed focused, tried not to look at the wounds and think about their cause; she could not afford to break down now, not when Enguina needed her. She kept muttering that she was almost finished, nearly done.

She helped her drink a bit of heated water, the herbs within it for pain. When all the wounds on her body were clean and dressed, Arwen carefully helped her dress in the undergarments, and then the loose-fitting tunic and leggings. She tossed aside the cloak and bundled her with blankets. Reaching up, she gently turned Enguina's face toward her.

"Now," she said gently, "let me see your face." The warm water began to clean her wounds, taking care on them and cleaning the dried blood from her skin. The bruising was wicked; purple colored her skin from her chin back to her ear and beneath her eye on both sides of her face, and she had several cuts that had been bleeding. Once cleaned, Enguina's face returned, though her eyes were still closed. She had not expected Enguina to say much, if anything; she stroked her cheek and then moved on. She carefully unwrapped her hands then, cleaning the puncture wounds with great care. Water, and then wrapping the wounds again with herbs was the best remedy at the moment, at least until Aragorn returned to care for them. It was the first time that Arwen thought of Legolas; she said a silent prayer for him.

Arwen moved closer to Enguina's head, gently lifting it and sweeping her hair out from beneath her. Without a word, she began pouring what was left of the water on her hair. It was the first thing that felt _good_ ; the warm water against her scalp was soothing, and some of the trembling began to stop. As Arwen washed her hair and worked her fingers gently into Enguina's scalp, Enguina could hear her singing softly. It was a prayer for them both, a prayer to the One for strength, for peace when there was none to be had. The words were quiet, the song beautiful, and it had been many years since Arwen had sung over her. It lulled her; it was a peaceful song.

 _Ilúvatar, I cry out, your beloved needs you now_

 _Please be near calm my fear and take my doubt_

 _Your kindness is what lifts me up_

 _Your love is all that draws me in_

 _Ilúvatar, let mercy sing her melody over me_

 _God right here all I bring is all of me_

 _Your kindness is what lifts me up_

 _Your love is all that draws me in_

 _I will lift my eyes to the Maker of the mountains I cannot climb_

 _I will lift my eyes to the Calmer of the oceans raging wild_

 _I will lift my eyes to the Healer of the hurt I hold inside_

 _I will lift my eyes, lift my eyes to you._

Arwen's song was not meant to fill her with hope or bring her heart out of the darkness. It was to remind her to seek the One for help, to reach out for his kindness and love and remember that he was with her. It was so difficult to remember when all around her seemed to be falling apart. A few tears fell then, but she tried not to lose her mind to the anguish of what had happened again. Trying to keep herself together was difficult…exhausting, even. She felt so tired at the moment that she thought she would just go to sleep and never wake—perhaps that would make life so much easier.

When Enguina's hair was washed and rinsed, Arwen leaned over towards her and gently cupped her face in her hands. "There now," she told her softly. "Now, you can take some rest. Is the pain still terrible?"

"Manageable," she whispered. Arwen stroked her fingers over her eyes.

"You need to rest now," she added. There was a moment of silence, and Enguina, though she could not even see Arwen, knew exactly what she was going to ask. "Can you…will you look at me?"

"I would," she replied, her voice still hoarse, "I want to, but I…I am so ashamed. I cannot, Arwen…please…I cannot _sleep_." Her voice caught and broke. "If I sleep, he will be there. _He will come_!"

"No, no," Arwen disagreed. "He is dead… _dead_ ; he can hurt you no more. And I will be just beside you. I will hold you, and I will not let go. I promise."

Enguina did look into Arwen's face then, her eyes wet and red from crying. Arwen looked down upon her, sending her love, compassion, as she touched her friend's face. "You will be here? Until I wake?" she whispered, clearly distraught.

"Every moment," she pledged, and with those words she lifted Enguina gently and curled her body against her, laying her body within her lap and bringing her head to rest in the crook of her arm. She ignored the roaring in her shoulder, her leg, her wrist, her head; everything she had been forcing for the past several days she put aside. Enguina was so much more important.

Enguina was on the verge of unconsciousness, but she needed to ask a few more questions before she could rest. Her lips trembled when she spoke. " _Legolas_?"

Arwen nodded. "He will be all right. He is with Aragorn. Soon, he will be back to look at your hands." Enguina's body tensed against her. "Shh…you know he would never hurt you, and I will be right here…right here with you the entire time."

Enguina could not talk about it now, about what had happened, what Legolas had seen, how ill he was, so she tried to move on. "Gimli?"

"He is feeding the horses," she said with a smile. "Safe and sound." There was silence for a moment and Arwen thought she had fallen asleep. But then she spoke.

"I do not deserve you…I do not deserve your friendship."

She bent her head and pressed her lips very softly to Enguina's forehead while holding her close. "I love you, sweet one," she whispered, giving everything she had in her small gift to help Enguina sleep. "Sleep now…and find rest and peace in Ilúvatar. You will be safe in my arms."


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Thank you so much for those who are reviewing and enjoying this story! I am really glad you like it and you're sticking with it! :O)

* * *

Aragorn carried Legolas back into the camp, exhausted and strained with Brego trailing behind him. The elf was nowhere healed as well as he would like, but there was nothing more he could do at the moment. The illness was going to hang over him for a few days, possibly the fever as well. The wounds were still awful, though at least they were clean. It was almost midday, and the fire Gimli had begun had nearly completely burned out, the bodies burned to ash. The dwarf, who was seated near the horses, rose to meet him.

"I wondered where you'd gone!" he said, clearly looking worried. "I mean, I knew it'd make sense when you got back, but—"

"Legolas was burning up, Gimli, and his wounds were many," Aragorn replied. "I am sorry I was gone for so long, but it was necessary. Where are—"

He nodded in their direction. "Over there; Arwen took care of Enguina's wounds as best she could. She's asleep at the moment, I think." He shook his head. "I didn't want to get too close and…well, frighten Enguina." He paled as Aragorn moved to lay Legolas down near the fire. "I was there in Henneth Annûn when she had a nightmare, and…well…I didn't want to frighten her."

"It is all right, Gimli." Aragorn made Legolas comfortable with another blanket and then stood back up. "You should take some rest yourself. How are your fingers?"

"Set," he grunted. "I took care of it already, and wrapped them up. She needs you more than me, and you look like you're about to collapse, boy."

Aragorn smiled at Gimli's use of the word 'boy.' "I will, but I have things to do first. I need to make sure Enguina is all right, and Arwen."

"She's injured pretty bad, cuts from the warg we fought," Gimli stated. "Arwen's not too good herself from what I can see. She might be asleep now; I don't know, but I'll keep an eye on the elf if you like while you're seeing to them." He looked back to Legolas. "How is he, Aragorn? He looked just terrible when we arrived, but we just couldn't get him out. I wish we had…none of this with Enguina would've ever happened."

"Some of his wounds were infected; it has made him very ill. He _does_ need to be watched closely if you want something to do instead of sleeping." He gave the dwarf a smile. "We will need to take a few days before we can travel anywhere; everyone's condition is unwell in one way or another."

"Have you got enough herbs?"

"I believe so," he replied. "I need to brew some tea for pain; I think Enguina will need it, as will Legolas. Even you, Master Dwarf, might wish to take some."

"Maybe," he snorted. "I'll see to it."

"Thank you," he replied. "Would you terribly mind seeing to Brego? He could use his tack removed, if you would be so kind."

"I would," the dwarf added and turned to catch the bay's reins. "C'mon, Brego."

As Gimli turned away, Aragorn slowly made his way toward Arwen and Enguina. Enguina was still lying in Arwen's arms, held close by her. He was, to put it mildly, _exhausted_ , and he needed to lie down and rest. He had done as much for Legolas as he could at the moment, and he now needed to see the ladies…especially Enguina. He could only hope that Arwen had been able to do enough for her that she was not in any pain. He hoped that she was sleeping well; he prayed she would not dream.

Stepping over to them, he called Arwen's name gently before he got too close. Aragorn did not want to rudely awake Enguina; she was already anxious enough, and she was bound to go mad if a man were to shake her awake, even if she knew in her heart he meant her no harm. Arwen raised her head at the sound of his voice, and it was slow; she had clearly been in that position for quite some time. She appeared just as exhausted as him; her eyes and face as red as Enguina's. Clearly, they had both been crying. He took a knee beside them.

"Should we wake her?" he asked softly, and Arwen shook her head.

"She only just fell asleep," she whispered. "Not yet…let her sleep."

"How was she? Her wounds—"

"Are cared for," she replied, nodding. "They will hold for now, until you are rested enough to see them." Her eyes flooded with tears, but she blinked them away. "I cannot…" She shook her head. "I cannot speak of it. We cannot speak of it."

"It is all right," he said gently, and he reached out to touch her face.

"Legolas?"

"He is not well, but he is stable at the moment. He very nearly has pneumonia; many of his wounds are infected, but he is already healing. His arms, his back, they are the worst. He set himself free from the tree to get to her; they had him tied there."

"God…so he could watch—" Her breath cut off and she looked away, down into Enguina's face, seeing the bruising, the cuts. She shook her head. "I _cannot_ …" She looked up at the sky through the treetops and was surprised. "Perhaps you _should_ wake her; I think we have been here longer than I knew," she admitted sheepishly.

"Perhaps I should take a look at—"

"It will keep," she insisted softly. "Enguina is more important." He would not argue with her; he knew that tone well enough. "I was worried about her hands, but the bleeding had stopped before I dressed them, thanks to you. She has two broken ribs, cuts and scars, bruises…she is bleeding a little."

"Gimli is brewing—"

"It's here," the dwarf muttered, setting two cups down, "along with another tunic for both of you. You look like bloody hell and could seriously use some rest yourselves." He waved them off as both of them opened their mouths. "I _know_ ; when everyone else is taken care of! Yeah, yeah." Turning away, he headed back to tend the fire and make sure Legolas was warm enough. Aragorn strengthened the tea with more herbs for the pain, and Arwen touched Enguina's cheek.

"Enguina, love, you need to wake up, just for a moment." Groggily, Enguina blinked her eyes, but only barely. Then she made to roll but got caught on Arwen's hands and lap, and she winced and gasped in pain. Arwen rubbed her arm gently. "It is only something quick to drink, then you can go right back to sleep. It will help with the pain."

Arwen went to move her arm and found it was either so asleep or so weak that she could barely support Enguina's weight anymore to help her sit up a bit. She fought the urge to let it give out and supported her anyway. The older elf leaned against her heavily, still mostly asleep as Arwen's arms wrapped carefully around her. Aragorn leaned a hand toward her, extending the cup. He was sitting closer than she probably would have liked, but she was not unclean, and he did not want to give her any idea that he felt that way. Enguina eyed his hands as she noticed him kneeling there and immediately tensed in Arwen's arms.

"Enguina, Aragorn is here with tea for you," Arwen whispered in her ear.

"I do not—no…" she said softly, turning her head into Arwen's chest.

"I am right here, sweet one," she told her, tightening her own arms around her.

"I would never hurt you, _aiwë_ ," he said, and extended the cup. "It is all right; you are safe now. I know this is difficult, and you hurt, but everything is going to be all right." She lifted her head a little bit, and blinked slowly, looking down at first and then raising her eyes to the cup again only. She could not look at him. "It will help with the pain; it will begin to heal you."

Enguina looked at his hands as they held the cup for her; strong hands, soothing hands. She _knew_ them, had been in the company of them before. He was right, of course, she had nothing to fear from any of them; but she was weak and sore, and that did not help matters. He was on one knee near her feet; he was strong…he could just reach out and… Her brain rebuked the image. This was _Aragorn_ …neither he nor Gimli nor Legolas would _ever_ do such a thing to her.

"Let me help you drink," he said softly, and he leaned forward with the cup, shuffling forward nearer to Arwen. She did not flinch away when he drew near to her mouth with the cup, and she took a drink. Slowly, she drank the mug of tea, but she kept her eyes low. None of them spoke.

"Thank you," she said softly, the tea even soothing her throat. He set the cup down.

"Would it be all right if I took a look at your hands?" he asked softly. She shuddered once and laid her head back against Arwen's breast and he could see her fingers trembling. "Let me see, and I can make it better."

She looked at him then, and tears flooded her eyes at his words. "Nothing… _nothing_ _can make this better_." Her breath caught and then she began breathing heavily, hurt evident in her every feature. "He won…he _won_ and he _hurt_ me and _abused_ me… _in front of Legolas_. My body _aches_ in agony with the thought of his touch, his mouth, the bruises, I can feel each one as burning coals! How can I forget, put it aside? The way he held my hips," she sobbed, "held me down so he could…so he could… _god!_ And Legolas there; _Legolas…the one who loves me_. The one who told me that no matter what he would still love me, but how could he? _How could he when every time he looks at me_ _ **that**_ _is what he will see? Me, lying on the ground beneath him, with him thrusting into me like some_ _ **animal**_ _?! How could he love that? How could he want to marry that? He cannot!_ _ **He cannot**_ _!_ "

She wailed, and Arwen tightened her arms around her, filled with pain at Enguina's words. Aragorn reached forward then, laying his hand on the side of her head. She flinched, but he kept going. "None of that is true," he told her gently. "Legolas is not going to see that; you only think he will because that is what you see, all you are feeling. Of course it is, _aiwë_ , it is too soon. You are deeply hurt by what he did, by how he used you; we all are." He whispered the last words. "Legolas most of all."

" _Legolas—_ " she gasped out, and he interrupted her.

"Do you know what he did? Enguina, he nearly killed himself trying to get to you, to free you, to _save_ you. He tore free from the tree he was tied to by the grace of Ilúvatar; he could think of _nothing_ but getting to you. He could think of nothing but you when I carried him to the river to wash his wounds. You were all he thought of, how hurt you were, and how much he wanted to hold you. He gave no thought to his own condition. He _loves_ you, Enguina… _he loves you_. Put aside that fear and doubt and accept it for the gift it is."

" _He cannot!_ " she cried out. " _It is not possible! I am impure! Used! Broken! I am not worthy of his love!_ "

"Yes, you are," Arwen whispered, bending down to press her lips to Enguina's hair. "He loved you before he knew about Bragolaur and he will love you still. No matter what has happened, he will be here for you. We are here…we will not leave you."

"You are not impure," Aragorn added. "What happened with Bragolaur was awful and terrible, and it was a _crime_ that he committed against you. He _was_ an animal, Enguina. But you do not deserve to suffer for what he did; to lose everything good in your life because you think yourself unworthy. Everyone here loves you and cares for you. You are family, and we will not leave you."

"Why… _why did Ilúvatar do this to me?_ " Enguina whimpered.

Arwen felt the words pierce her heart. She had asked herself the same question so many times about what had been done to Enguina…and she had posed the question about a hundred times to Ilúvatar herself since their child was taken from them. She heard Aragorn sigh softly, and he covered Arwen's hand with his own, squeezing it tight.

"Enguina, we will never know, nor understand, the purposes of Ilúvatar. We can try, and we can ask him, but he may choose not to answer us. He may choose to keep us in the dark for a time; even though that hurts…he is still with us, still with you. He is trying to carry you right now; let him."

"I have _begged_ him for so long to take the pain away," she cried, "to make me forget…and now I shall _never_ forget! Now I shall live with it forever; there is no hope…none at all. I am naked in the dark with _him_ —"

"Shh," Arwen said, rocking her back and forth, "no, no…that is not true. It is not true, Enguina, you are _here_ with us and he is dead… _very dead_. He can hurt you no more."

"But he is doing it right _now_ ," she moaned.

"When Legolas and you are more healed," Aragorn told her gently, "you will speak to him, and he will hold you, and remind you personally of his love for you. There is no escaping it, Enguina; how many times has he told you his love shall not change?"

"A thousand since he declared it," she said, thinking of Aragorn's words. "But it is different now…so different. It is one thing to hear the story, as terrible as it would have been to tell, but…it is another thing entirely to see it take place. Eru in Heaven, what he must have _felt_." Tears spilled down her face again. "I begged him not to watch, not to see…I know he did not listen…how _could_ he?"

"He loves you," Arwen said as Aragorn stroked her hair. "It would have been difficult for him to turn away from you when he was so agitated, so full of fear for you."

"I could hear him screaming," she whispered.

"We could as well," Aragorn said. "We raced here as fast as we could when we heard you both." Enguina opened her eyes and looked at Aragorn, without moving her head from Arwen's breast.

"He told Legolas it was his wedding present to him…a broken woman, an obedient woman, a bitch who would do his bidding." Enguina choked on the words. "That was what he called me, his _bitch_." She could feel wetness in her hair; she knew Arwen was crying again. "He told me he owned me; that no one could do to me what he could with one touch…ugh, it makes me sick thinking about it. He told me that he was going to take me, and that he would…that he was going to _finish inside me_."

The knuckles on Aragorn's left hand, the one that was _not_ touching Enguina's hair, cracked. "He was the most despicable creature alive; I am glad… _glad, glad, glad_ that he is dead."

"How do you know for sure he is dead?" she whispered.

"Because I stabbed Hadhafang through his brain," Arwen said in a completely detached voice. "I know he is dead."

" _You—?_ " Enguina said, lifting her head to look into Arwen's face. " _You_ killed him? I never wanted his blood on your hands!"

Arwen tilted her chin downward, her jaw set. " _I did_. Let it go, Enguina. He is dead, and that is enough. He will never _ever_ hurt you again."

"It is your dreams, your own mind, that you must fight now," Aragorn told her gently. "Bragolaur will haunt you as long as you allow him. Look at what you _have_ , Enguina. Focus on that."

She turned her head away from Arwen. She wanted, with all her heart, to believe in Aragorn's words, to remember that Legolas still loved her. But she still could not wrap her mind around _why_. She had never done anything worthy of his love; in fact, she had never even thought she should have it, or that he should give it to her. Arwen would say that was why he did, but Enguina was never so unsure of anything in her life. And Aragorn said she would speak to him? Wherever would she find the words?

"How…how _is_ Legolas?" she asked him, looking up into his eyes.

"Unwell," he replied honestly, "but you need not worry for him. When you are feeling up to it, I know he would like to feel you are near. He needs much healing, just as you do." He gave her a little smile and held out his hand. "May I see those hands of yours now?"

She nodded slowly and laid one of hers in his. He slowly undid the bandage and examined Arwen's handiwork, nodding. "This will heal well," he told her. "Arwen did good work on this. When we change the wraps tomorrow, we will put fresh herbs on them, and I will heal what I can." He eyed her for a moment as he rewrapped the wound. "You need to lie down, Enguina…and you need to breathe more easily. Lying on your back will help your ribs; sitting is doing nothing for you."

She cringed; how did he know just by looking at her that she was still in pain? "You are…wise beyond your years, Master Healer," she whispered.

He chuckled suddenly, and it did not even feel out of place for the moment. "A bit more tea, and then sleep," he said, lifting the other mug he had brought over. He helped her drink it and she shuddered.

"Ugh…that does not taste very good at all," she complained, and Arwen smiled.

"No, but it is wonderful," Arwen said honestly. "You will feel better in no time at all."

"Let me help you lie down and take some rest," Aragorn said, and he reached behind Enguina to take her carefully from Arwen's now trembling arm. Enguina had not even noticed, and that was good; the last thing she needed was to be worrying about someone else as she slept. Aragorn must have known somehow, and Arwen left her hand limply in her lap at the moment; it was too weak to lift.

"Please," Enguina whispered to them, "will you stay near."

"I will not leave your side," Arwen replied, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Thank you…both of you. Without all of you, I…I do not know where I would be right now," Enguina said softly. _Killing myself in despair, honestly._

"Sleep well, _aiwë_ ," Aragorn said, touching the tips of his fingers to Enguina's bruised forehead before he stood. "Arwen will help you to sleep. We will wake you if you begin to dream."

"You need to rest as well," Arwen told him.

"Yes," Aragorn said raising an eyebrow at her, "after I make myself easy about Legolas one last time." He then reached out and brushed his fingers against Arwen's chin before he let her go and went to Legolas one last time.

* * *

By the time Aragorn drew back to Arwen's side after instructing Gimli to wake him if there was any sort of change in Legolas, Enguina was asleep, wrapped tightly in blankets and Arwen had her eyes closed and her face covered with one hand, her head leaned away from her wounded shoulder. Aragorn set down an extra mug of tea, and took a seat on the ground beside her.

"Now you," he said, his tone full of worry. He did not have to see her face to know there were tears upon it. She was silently sobbing, clearly trying not to wake Enguina; her sorrow continued to wash over him in waves.

"I…am so full of _grief_ ," she whispered, and she did not lift her head. "What he said to her, what he did…to say he would _f-f-finish_ inside her." The horror in her voice hurt him. " _The bastard…the bastard…_ " she moaned.

"He _was_ ," Aragorn whispered, reaching out to lay a hand in her hair. "You killed him and Gimli burned the pieces. There is nothing left of him but ash and dust, and even that is more than he deserves." His eyes fell upon Enguina's face again and he felt the great sorrow cover his heart for what had been done to her, to Legolas. Arwen was right; Bragolaur was the most despicable creature that Aragorn had ever met, and that was saying a lot. Then he lifted his eyes and caught sight of Arwen's bloodied tunic, a hole in the shoulder where he could see the shaft poking through.

"He deserved to die," she repeated, her voice a bit clearer as she tried to control herself and the tears. "I was so… _so angry_. I could feel nothing but hate for him, for what he had done. I just wanted him to suffer, to die…"

"I know," he replied. "I did, too." He could not help but be fixated now on her wound. "You are hurt, Arwen…wounded." He suddenly noticed the fletching protruding from her forearm and he took her arm in his hand, drawing it away from her face. "This is deep."

"What?" she asked softly. She knew the wounds he meant, but with her mind so fixed on Enguina at the moment she could hardly remember them aside from the pain. Realizing it just as he spoke, blood was running down the inside of her arm. She turned her head and looked at the wooden shaft, trying to remember why it was broken, and then suddenly remembered that Bragolaur had grabbed it and tried to cripple her. "I can hardly move it," she told him.

"Do you think Enguina will be all right if we are this close to her? I do not want my presence to induce a night terror," Aragorn said, and he took her sleeve and tore it open to her wrist so he could see the wound in her forearm.

"The nightmares were horrible after Lórien," she said, anxiety in her voice. "Nothing will stop them. She will not be able to sleep long, and if she does, she will wake in terror."

"We will wake her first," he said, carefully tugging out the piece of wood in her arm. She found that it did not hurt more than it had to be in her arm in the first place as he wiped the blood away from the puncture so he could see feel if there were any shards left inside it. He cleaned it carefully, placing ointment into the hole, and bound it up with cloth. He lifted his eyes to hers. "She is going to be safe with us; we are going to make certain of it."

"Legolas is asleep?" she asked, closing her eyes as he unbuttoned the first two buttons on her tunic and slid the fabric over her shoulder so he could see the wound. If he had thought the wound in her arm was deep, this was much worse; it had also been pulled of course by her own doing.

"Yes, at the moment," he said, studying the wound with his fingers, knowing she was barely allowing him to touch it, on the verge of recoiling from him in agony. "Gimli is with him."

"Every one of us is exhausted," she said, her voice tight and she glanced down at what he was doing. "Are you going to pull that out now?"

"This is very deep; did Bragolaur break the arrow?"

"He was trying to cripple my arm," she replied, "so I jerked the other way and broke the shaft so he could not continue to use it to hurt me."

"You are wounded by it enough," he said and she glanced at his eyes. "It is going to hurt." He studied the angle more carefully before he set his hand against her chest to hold her still as he would need to yank forward and took the inch-long end of the shaft in the other. Her breathing quickened and her pained muscles tensed beneath his hand as he eyed her.

" _Just do it_ ," she whispered, closing her eyes and turning her head away.

He pulled, and then had to pull again when his bloodied fingers slipped from the shortened shaft, but at least on the second yank the arrow came free. Blood poured immediately from the wound as he knew it would; he was ready for it. She wanted to scream in pain, but she did not, too conscious of waking Enguina. She even tried to control her ragged breathing and make it easier on Aragorn. She glanced at him, and she could see him biting the inside of his lip, his brow furrowed.

"Sorry," she gasped, knowing she had been screaming inside his head.

"I would prefer to hear you than not," he replied. "I _hate_ it when you hurt." He carefully tended the wound, and when he was finished her whole shoulder ached. "It _is_ very deep. We will have to keep an eye on it and make sure it heals from the inside out. I packed it tonight."

"We were lucky," she said softly. "There were so many more of them than there were of us. It was so foolish for me to go running into the camp like that. I heard your caution, but I…could not stop myself. I had to…I had to get to her."

"I would not blame you. I did the same as you. Even though I had urged you," he said, "I ignored it myself. Rescuing them was the most important thought in either of our minds. Thank Ilúvatar we arrived."

"Not soon enough," she whispered. "Not soon enough to save her, to stop this nightmare from happening all over again." There were tears in her eyes again and her words echoed in his head. _I was too late…again, Estel. I was too late_.

" _He_ said that to you, did he not?" Aragorn said, laying his hands against her face as she lowered her head. "Do not let him hurt you; he has done enough."

"He was right."

"They are safe, Arwen. No matter what we feel, _that_ is what matters. Ilúvatar got us here in time. Bragolaur did not succeed; he did not do what he said." Aragorn could not repeat the words again that Arwen had repeated in a horrified whisper before. "And he did not ransom Legolas as he wanted. We got here in time; we _did._ " He could tell she wanted to believe him with all of her heart, but her eyes settled Enguina's battered face again.

"How is Gimli?" she asked, changing the subject.

"A few broken fingers," he replied, "but they were not from the battle. He will live."

"And you?" She looked him over, seeing his bloody tunic.

"Right as rain. This is from Legolas," he said, gesturing at his torso. "I am well, therefore, I am trying to ensure the well-being of everyone else so we can all take some rest."

She tilted her head at him. "Are you really going to do that?"

He chuckled at her. "As a matter of fact, yes, and I intend to lie down right here beside you so you can stay beside Enguina. Is that all right?" She nodded. "Let me help you change your tunic into something clean; Gimli is already resting." He helped her take off her tunic and handed her the mug. "Drink this while I clean all this blood off of you. Why ruin another shirt?"

A little smile appeared on her face, and he was glad to see it. "Usually, I say that to you."

"Well, you are the injured one this time." He began sponging off her arm and side. "How is your head?"

"Before, I thought it was going to explode off my shoulders," she said honestly. "But it has fallen to a dull roar now. It was from the stress and…probably crying. I am as exhausted as you look."

He smiled. "As you said before, we are all exhausted in some way." When he finished, he helped her slip on her other tunic, and he could tell the pain in her shoulder was quite strong. They needed to rest, and he removed his own bloodied tunic so that he could put on the replacement Gimli had been kind enough to supply from their saddlebags. As he pulled it over his head, he heard her gasp in pain, and he looked at her immediately, clutching her knee with her right hand.

" _Oh, Ilúvatar_ that _hurts_ ," she groaned. She had completely forgotten about the injury to her knee because she had not moved in so long. When she had moved to straighten her leg out from holding Enguina in her arms, in her lap, agony fired through her thigh to her hip.

"I saw you limping before," he said, and he reached out to feel the area around her knee. It was swollen, and he frowned. "What happened?"

"He kicked my knee and twisted it," she explained. "I think it is paining because I have been sitting here with Enguina for several hours, just as you were down at the river with Legolas."

He stood and went to his saddle, withdrawing some ointment he had made some time ago—it was possible that it would help. Upon returning to her side, he rolled up her legging and rubbed her knee with it, filling the air with the scent of peppermint. When he finished, he helped her stretch her knee a few times through the pain and then rubbed it once more. She stared at his hands when he set down her leg. "It is a sin," she whispered, "that your hands should feel that good."

He had to laugh. "Let us lay down so we can get some rest before one of these two wakes and needs something." She lay down facing Enguina, her hand on her arm, and Aragorn lay behind her. Before he could even lift his arm to encircle her body, they were asleep.

* * *

It was dark when Enguina woke for the first time on her own. Arwen, then Aragorn, had woken her at two different times during the day, but she had only been awake for moments, and she did not remember the dreams she had been having, though they both said she had been dreaming. She had slept the day away and at the moment, she felt calm, even peaceful; she wished she could extend that feeling forever. There was also no pain, not even the phantom memory of it for once and she relished that as well. Carefully, she sat up and studied her surroundings for the first time.

Arwen still lay beside her, at this moment, sleeping as if she were dead; Enguina had sat up with Arwen's arm on her and she had not even stirred. Enguina stroked _her_ hair. The younger elf might just be more exhausted than she was. Aragorn slept on his side not feet from her side. Even in his sleep, his fingers were just touching the edges of her hair. Concern…caring for her…Enguina could not help but yearn for Legolas's touch…and then shy away from it. She should not feel that way; though she had flinched at Aragorn's touch, it had felt good. It was bound to be all the more wonderful if it was _Legolas_ who was doing the touching.

This drew her slowly to her feet as she tested her different muscles; she was sore, but nothing was so horrible she could not stand. She had an unquenchable desire to be held by him. In fact, she had never felt more desperate about anything when she was not in danger. To smell him, to breathe him in, would bring her peace. Gimli lay near the fire that he had been tending, resting as well and snoring, and the horses stood in the trees in a row; Lómë nickered to her, but she could not acknowledge him just now…she _needed_ something else. She found Legolas, eyes open though glazed, on the ground on the other side of the fire. Closing the distance between them faster than she thought, she found her feet grinding to a halt less than a meter from his side.

An irrational fear came over her. As much as she wanted to feel his fingers on her face, his comfort, see his beautiful eyes…what if he did not want her? No matter what Aragorn and Arwen had said, no matter that they had tried to convince her that Legolas still loved her, thought of nothing but her…how could she be _sure_? Without speaking to him herself, how could she know that he still wanted her, that he still wanted her to be his wife, someone with this huge of a stain? Her breath caught in her throat; on second thought, perhaps she should not touch him at all. She was not ready for the confrontation, for the words to come out of his mouth that he could no longer love her. No, she was not ready, and she turned away.

And again, came to a halt not even two steps later, her side now paining her as her breathing had quickened. Even if she did not know what he felt, even if he no longer wanted her, no longer loved her, no longer needed her at his side…how could she not go to him? As ill as he was, as wounded as he had been, how could she not sit with him, just to touch his face, to ensure that he was all right? She could always run, she was so _good_ at running, if he did not want her…and she would keep running. Either to death or the Undying Lands…whichever came first.

She turned back and gingerly sat down beside him, her broken ribs stabbing at her. She was still wounded, and she needed to listen to Aragorn and take it easy. But she ignored that for the moment; she was looking down on the man she loved. His face was not anywhere near as pale as she had expected or as it had been when she had arrived in the early morning hours. It was clean, and it did not appear as bruised as it had been either. His arms were wrapped, and she could see that beneath his tunic he also had bandages. It was clear that Aragorn had been at work again as she remembered him saying earlier that Legolas was still feverish and he did not seem to be now. She wondered if his chest was clear or if he still sounded deathly ill. Enguina thought fondly of Aragorn for a moment; the man would wear himself out before he watched someone else suffer.

If she did not touch Legolas now, she would never have the courage to do it. Leaning forward carefully, she stroked soft fingertips across his face from temple to cheek to chin, reveling in the touch of his skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought about how much she loved him, how close to death he had come. She thought of the many days and nights of traveling, how she had feared for him and prayed she would find him alive. He was going to be all right; that was what Aragorn had said. She traced her fingertips along his face again in the same pattern, and then realized his eyes were no longer glassy and she was staring into them. She could not look away from them; she never could! No matter how terrified she had been to think of looking in them at all, she was in the moment now. They were the bluest blue, exactly as she remembered, and so full of…so full of _love_.

" _Guin_ ," he said softly, his voice tight from lack of use, and he coughed twice before he continued, "my love…my wife…how I have missed you, how I have worried for you so." Slowly, whether from exhaustion or pain or desire to not frighten her, he raised a hand and laid it on her cheek. She took her hand from his face and covered his; she never even flinched, but she did stare at him, her eyes full of tears. She reached forward and placed a hand in the center of his chest and he covered it, taking it in his own.

" _Wife_?" she whispered, and a flash of confusion crossed his face. She could see in his eyes how quickly he was thinking.

"You are not my wife yet?" he asked, his voice a bit bewildered. She continued to stare at him, her eyes widening as she shook her head and he sighed. "What the _hell_ have I been waiting for?" he muttered and she could not help but gasp out a laugh, the tears spilling over her cheeks and their hands.

" _Me_ ," she said, crying. "You were waiting for _me_."

"That was some dream I must have been having," he said, rubbing his thumb against her cheek, wiping the tears away. "Do not cry," he told her soothingly as he lowered his voice, "do not even think about it now. I do not want to think…or talk…not just now. We will," he told her, "there will be time, but not now…I just want to hold you. Please, can I hold you?"

" _Can_ you?" she asked, her voice broken, and he smiled, tears filling his own.

" _Moina_ _quén_ , let me worry about that. Come down…and rest your head upon my heart."

A spike of fear should have coursed through her—she _waited_ for it—but it never came. Instead, she found herself curling up near his side, laying her head on his chest where there were no wounds, avoiding her ribs, his ribs, and his shoulders, his hip. His arm wrapped over her, and they lay still like that for a moment, no words; his other hand finally found her face, his fingers stroking over her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her chin, but not pressing, ignoring the bruises. _Ilúvatar…it felt so right!_

"Oh my love, my love…" he whispered and her heart filled with an unfathomable joy at his words. He loved her… _he loved her_!

She laid her hand upon his stomach, and fingered the buttons on his tunic. He was so _warm_ , so _full of life_ …and she had been so worried for him, so afraid of his injuries, of him being tied to a tree. She breathed in the scent of him. Even the smell of him calmed her, just as she had hoped it would, and she felt him continuing to caress her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, her voice still quiet. He had said he did not want to talk; she barely wanted to break the silence.

"Rememorizing your precious face," he told her. "Wiping everything else away and focusing on what matters…you…me…our love…" There was silence between them for long moments and Enguina could feel herself drifting away in the peacefulness of his presence, the touch of his skin against hers. She was amazed how she wanted it; she had been so afraid she would not. "I never thanked you," he said, and surprise filled her at his sudden words.

"For what?"

"For coming to save me, you and Gimli. I am so glad you are here…I am so glad I have you to hold. When I was a captive, I prayed that I would just be able to see your eyes again. That if I could just see you for a moment, know you were all right…" She felt his chest tighten beneath her hand and he coughed several times.

"Shhh…" she whispered, worried. It was _unnatural_ to see him ill. "Rest, Legolas…please, save your strength."

"No, I… _I love you_. Ilúvatar has granted me the desire of my heart. I _must_ praise Him, thank Him aloud. With all my heart I am filled with joy, with praise and I…I must thank him."

She felt an overwhelming desire flood her to kiss him, and she leaned up onto her elbow, unable to deny the urge. When he saw her face nearly above him, she felt the hand on her back drag up underneath her hair and wrap gently around her neck. Leaning down, she pressed her lips against his, softly, and then she leaned her forehead upon his brow, their eyes closed.

"I _love_ you," she whispered, and she felt him smile.

"I love you more."

"No," she refused him, tears springing to her eyes, " _I_ do."

"I do, too," he told her, and then his voice lowered to a whisper. "Let us get married; _right_ _now_." She laughed, kissing him again even through her tears. "Aragorn is a King…can he not wed us?"

"How I have missed your joy," she said and he coughed several more times, his chest tight beneath her fingers. She rubbed her hand gently along his sternum. "You need to rest; your chest is tight, and your head is warmer than it should be."

"My whole _being_ is warm," he said, "now that you are here beside me." She shook her head, but was inwardly moved by his words, and she kissed him once more before laying her head back down upon his chest. There were a few more moments of silence, and then she felt his hand begin tracing her face again. "I was serious…"

" _Rest_ , Legolas."

He sighed very softly. "Sleep well, my Guin," he said gently.

She smiled, but made no reply, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Across the camp, Arwen slowly laid back down, a small smile on her face. She had been worried about Enguina initially, but then had seen her with Legolas. She knew that it was only a matter of time before Enguina's first nightmare, before there would be talk between them, before they would discuss the wedding and how hurt she had been…how that would affect both of them. She knew it would be hard, that this was only the calm before the storm, but it comforted her to see it, to know that Enguina knew that Legolas still loved her and had heard it from his own lips.

Slowly rolling over onto her other side, she rolled directly into Aragorn's arms, smirking a bit to herself. Lifting the hand that had been in her hair, she dropped it over her back and pulled herself into him as close as she could, trying not to injure her shoulder further. But his embrace was something she was craving at the moment, and she ignored both the knee and the shoulder for it. His arms tightened around her, and she smiled, thinking that he would hold her even in sleep.

"I am waking up to a beautiful brunette," he murmured into the top of her head, his nose in her hair. "I may have a confession to make to my wife…"

"Mmmm," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was…but even a sleeping man does not lose track of his wife."

"So…is this the last clean traveling tunic you have?" she asked softly, raising her eyebrows, even though he could not see them. "I seem to recall you being covered in blood in the last one. Unlikely it will ever be clean. What will you wear?"

He sighed softly. "Well…we shall have to see what the market holds, I am afraid. Or you will have to get to work," he teased, and she snorted.

"I _mend_ your tunics, Aragorn, not _make_ them. I am not _that_ good with a needle and thread."

"You are," he said. "Even Enguina said so when you were making the clothes for the baby."

She shoved the hurt away and sighed. "She did say that, did she not?"

"Where is she, by the by?"

Arwen smiled. "With Legolas."

"Good."

"Who looks, might I add, as though _someone_ worked awfully hard to heal him today when he was supposed to be resting."

"Everyone else but Gimli was asleep…and I could not simply let him lie there when I knew he needed more healing. He is better, but still ill, his wounds are still rather severe. Enguina's hands are looking a bit better, and her pain is less though the wounds of Girith have not healed as well as I would have liked yet." So, he had clearly been at work on Enguina as well. "We will not be able to travel anywhere at present; Enguina is not ready to be in the saddle either, though the wedding draws ever closer."

Arwen frowned against his chest. "You were exhausted before, now you _seriously_ need rest. What were you thinking?"

"That I had to give while I could," he said pointedly. "If I breathe, I must give. I know someone else who sat and held their dear friend for several hours with a shoulder wound that should not have gone unattended…give and give, Arwen. It is who we are. And _I_ am not the one who woke _me_ up."

"Ha!" she scoffed. "Do not blame _me_ for this! I am not the one making comments about brunettes. You can hardly _move_ —"

He rolled her onto her back and pressed her down into the grass, his chest against hers as he leaned his arms on either side of her, his face very near hers. He held himself off her shoulder. "You were saying, beloved?"

"Aragorn…" she whispered, "for _propriety's_ _sake_ , you fool, get _off_."

He chuckled, and she had to admit silently that it was nice to hear it. "Come now, the dwarf is snoring, and Enguina has returned to Legolas's arms; there is no one to be proper for, my Lady. The horses have no desire to notice us. And beside all of that, you like me right where I am."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do I?" she asked a bit playfully, though she could see even in his eyes at that very moment he could have closed his eyes and fallen into exhausted sleep. But she played along with him because she _did_ enjoy it, and it would only last moments before he truly _was_ exhausted. "And how do you know that?"

"You are smiling," he stated. "A little."

She rolled her eyes. "You can do better."

"You have not yet thrown me aside."

"That is better…but not quite there yet."

He lifted his head and tilted it, quite serious now as he pressed a kiss to the edge of her chin, which was about all he could reach. He leaned onto his left elbow and she felt his right hand touch her stomach and he whispered, "The butterflies…I can feel them."

"The—butterflies?"

He smiled. "I can feel them inside you, and it has been some time since I made them flutter." He kissed her chin again, but she tilted her head up and kissed him then. "And," he continued softly, "your heart beats in rhythm with mine."

"I love you," she told him tenderly, moved by his words. She felt him sigh and kiss her again. "You need to rest."

"I _am_ fatigued."

"You mean 'half-alive' when you say that, do you not?" she said softly, rolling him off her onto his side. She curled back up against him and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she tucked her head beneath his chin. "It must have been very uncomfortable, and I have no idea how you found the strength to banter with me."

He chuckled tiredly. "It is amazing what you can accomplish out of desire, beloved."

"Sleep," she told him, and the two of them relaxed and rested, a bit more at peace.


	26. Chapter 26

When the morning came in all its brilliance, Enguina was amazed to find that once again she had woken with no terror; she _knew_ it would come eventually, but Ilúvatar was giving her a few more hours of grace. She was extremely grateful, and she made sure to thank him for it. Filling her nose was the scent of Legolas, and that scent made her remember that she was lying against him, still tucked beneath his arm. She blinked a few times and then sat up, careful not to push off his chest when she did.

"Good morning, beautiful," came Legolas's voice, and she looked down at his face. "How was your sleep?"

"Perfect," she said honestly, a blush on her face. "It was…wonderfully unexpected."

He smiled at her. "It was because of me, was it not?"

She tilted her head, staring at him. "You cannot possibly be this chirpy in the morning as soon as you wake. It is _not_ possible. Are you still half-asleep? Are you confused?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, I know now that you are _not_ my wife, even though you should be. I remember discussing that with you last evening."

"You are ridiculous," she replied, blushing even more deeply.

"And I _am_ generally this chirpy, as you put it, in the morning," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I can tone it down if you desire; I know that you tend not to enjoy the mornings." He smiled at her, and raised a hand to stroke her face from cheek to chin. "But you will come around."

Her eyes were full of him. "I will come around?" she asked, quoting him.

"Spend a few mornings waking up to me and you will," he said, grinning now.

His simple goal, make Enguina blush, was very easily achieved. "You are incorrigible," she said softly, and the blush deepened when she realized Aragorn was seated, smiling, on the other side of Legolas, unraveling the bandage on his right arm. "I…forgive us, Aragorn. I did not know you were there."

"Forgive who?" said Legolas, and he glanced at Aragorn with a grin. "I have no intention of being forgiven for something I am not in the least bit sorry for. I was talking to my future wife—" He broke off into a fit of coughing, and Enguina's worry overcame every other thought. Aragorn covered her hand, which was in the center of his chest, and she felt its heat pouring over her skin. It soothed Legolas and he finally caught his breath and breathed more easily. "That is the most wonderful gift," he mumbled.

Aragorn removed his hand and turned a bit, reaching toward the fire that was still burning. "Here, Enguina, put this on his chest, but do not keep your hand on it long." The steaming cloth was placed on Legolas's chest and he sighed, low and long, the heat penetrating through his illness.

"That is _almost_ as good as her hand," he murmured. " _Almost._ "

" _Legolas_ —" she began, but he ignored her chiding.

"Guin, I cannot help it if Aragorn happened to still be here, by the by. The fault is his own, not mine."

"It is fine," Aragorn interrupted them, trying to ease Enguina's discomfort and staunch Legolas's _chirpiness_ , as Enguina had called it. "I was trying to take a look on Legolas's wounds, or at least a few of them." He eyed her. "And how are you feeling this morning?"

"Yes," Legolas murmured, "how is my betrothed?"

She looked back and forth between them both, her thoughts now on the fact that Legolas had mentioned her being his wife three times this morning. "I…feel…a little better."

"And how are your ribs?"

"They are—oh Ilúvatar!" she exclaimed when the bandage fell away. Her hand went to her mouth as she stared, unable to pull her eyes away. "Legolas, your _arm! What in the name of Heaven?_ "

"This looks much better today," Aragorn said softly, but Legolas stared at Enguina's face.

"I had to get to you," he said softly. "It was the only chance to free myself, to break the rope by dragging it against the tree." He grimaced as Aragorn spread a special salve he had made on it. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, dear one. Well," he laughed, "it was the _only_ idea. It could not be helped." He frowned. "Though it did not help much."

"You stabbed him in the back with his own knife," Aragorn said dryly. "I think that counts for something."

"I wish I had done more," he said softly. "But enough of that, you are awake and here and whole, and I am awake and here and whole and that is all that matters. Yes?" He reached over, took her hand, brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. She blushed again and he smiled. "I am insatiable when it comes to making you blush."

"I do not think I noticed," she mocked him. Aragorn had finished wrapping Legolas's arm again, and moved over to sit beside Enguina.

"If both of you will excuse me, I need to borrow this arm."

Enguina looked at him, appearing a bit frustrated. "Legolas will not let go of my hand," she complained, and Aragorn, looking at the very obvious grin on Legolas's face, chuckled.

"You can have his hand; I need only his arm," he said, unraveling the bandage.

"See?" Legolas said to her. "Aragorn can be flexible."

"Only because you seem to demand it," she commented. "You are awfully demanding, Legolas."

He looked at her, studying the fingers that remained close to his face. "And what, my love, do I demand too much of? I will give you that I demand more of you." He laughed. "I cannot help myself."

"Yes, you seem quite unable to do that." She lifted her head and looked about the camp. "Where are Gimli and Arwen? I do not see them."

"Hunting," said Aragorn with a smile. "It was time for some real food."

"What, lembas and cram not good enough for them, hmmm?" said Legolas with a wink.

"Please," Enguina scoffed at him, rolling her eyes, "when was the last time _you_ had lembas?"

Legolas stared at her a moment. "That…is an excellent point."

"Legolas, when was the last time you had food at all?" asked Aragorn, shaking his head. "You look as though you have not eaten in a week." Enguina looked as though she did not want to hear the answer, but Legolas was truth-bound.

"Not the first few days," he replied. "Towards the end, Vilyath, the elf of Rivendell, felt sorry for me." He frowned, thinking of her death at Bragolaur's hand. "No matter what she was, she did not deserve to die. He slit her throat as she tried to defend Enguina."

"I did not know her," Enguina said softly, and Legolas looked at her.

"You would not have seen her," he said softly as Aragorn finished rewrapping his arm. "She spoke out for you when that beast had you in his claws. She deserved better; she was not as harsh and cruel as she appeared. Vilyath was a broken woman…what she needed was a person to show her the way to a kinder life." Aragorn rose and stepped around him to stoke the fire, leaving them alone to talk.

Enguina gave him a sad little smile. "Such as someone like you…who enjoys fixing broken things?" After the words left her mouth, her throat tightened and she had to close her eyes. Perhaps she _had_ meant it exactly the way it sounded; she felt broken…she had always felt that way.

Legolas released her hand and lifted his own to touch her face, stroking her cheek. "You are _not_ broken," he stressed lovingly. She covered his hand with hers and then turned her face into his palm, pressing her lips to it. Unable to speak, she kept her eyes closed and reminded herself to breathe. "Enguina—"

"Lunch is served!" roared Gimli, startling the horses as he burst through the underbrush, carrying a stick loaded down with squirrels. "And I will never, _ever_ jest again that the Queen cannot fire a bow!" Enguina lowered Legolas's hand on her face and simply held it in hers, but she still did not look at him. "Well, bless me! The elf's awake!" shouted Gimli and he handed the squirrels off to Aragorn and turned towards Legolas.

Clearly, Enguina wanted to let go their nearly non-existent conversation, so he acquiesced, smiling at the dwarf. "Well, good morning to you, friend Gimli."

"How's the invalid?" he laughed.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Gimli, we talked, even if it was briefly, yesterday afternoon."

"Yes, when I woke Aragorn because I thought you were going to have a fit or something."

"It was good that you did," Aragorn replied, looking up as Arwen limped into the camp along the same path Gimli had made. He smiled at her and then finished toward Legolas, "At least I was able to quell it and help your back a bit more so you could lie there comfortably. Some more tea might be in order soon." Legolas grimaced, but did not disagree.

"Have I ever mentioned how loud dwarves are?" Arwen asked, walking towards them and Enguina spun her head around to grin at her.

"I know! It _is_ quite terrible!" She spotted her limping, and her brow furrowed. "Why are you limping?"

"I injured my knee," she replied. "It is less stiff when I move it. It will be fine, Enguina; it is nothing."

Gimli laughed, shaking his head. "You were _fine_ with me there, and I didn't scare anything away!" He stepped up to Legolas's side. "Doin' any sitting up yet?"

"I have not," Legolas said a bit sheepishly, "but I would like to. Care to—"

"No," urged Enguina, knocking their hands apart as Gimli reached to grab Legolas. "You need to rest. You have been ill and you were feverish last night."

Aragorn's head came up. "Feverish?"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "I was _fine_. Do not be such a worry-wart, Aragorn. It does not suit you."

"I think it suits him just fine," Enguina pointed out. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"That is only because it is not _you_ he is worrying about." He sighed at the look on her face. " _Please_ , let me sit up. I promise that if I do not feel well I will immediately lie back down."

She eyed him. "You promise me?"

"Across my heart." Gimli helped him carefully sit up, and though wincing because of his ribs, he breathed a sigh of relief. "It is _good_ to sit up." Arwen leaned over him, holding a bow, and kissed him on the top of the head. He smiled at her and Enguina gently supported him, knowing that he was still weak.

"I am happy to see you awake and feeling well, Legolas," Arwen told him. In the meantime, Gimli rolled a long over behind the elf so that he could lean himself against it. It was difficult to support himself on his own.

"I want to thank you," he said, "all of you, for coming here…for running to my rescue. It would _not_ have been a bit of joy at all to enter Eryn Lasgalen for the first time in years coming in chains, so to speak. And to have my father placed in such a position where he would have to sacrifice my life for others…he would not forgive himself."

"Lad, what were we gonna do?" asked Gimli. "Just let them carry you off? Ya were supposed to be lookin' for a home! Instead, you nearly got yerself killed."

"Yes," Legolas said with a short smile, "do I know it, the last part much worse than the first. Tell me how you came to be here. I need to know of Faramir. Was he found? Is he well?"

"Faramir is recovering," Aragorn said, as both he and Arwen began skinning their lunch with knives. "He was found where you were attacked, and Éowyn is with him. I was able to arrive in time to save his life, by the grace of Ilúvatar, and I am sure he is well on his way to recovery."

"Gimli and I left the night we discovered you were gone," Enguina said softly. "Éowyn took Faramir back to Henneth Annûn, and we followed the trail. We got a bit lost along the way," she added with embarrassment, "but we ended up being chased by a pack of wargs and one _huge_ one—"

"Girith _did_ find you then," Legolas interrupted worriedly. "I was terrified for you both. I knew you were on your way, but then Vilyath said that Girith had gone after you. I tried to escape that night but…I failed miserably."

"That awful creature had a _name_?" Gimli sputtered. "It was _hideously_ ugly and three times the size of any normal warg. We received quite a few scars and scratches from it, as you well know. It took all of our strength just to bring it down, and then we had to fight it hand to hand on the ground."

"We had completely lost the trail at that point, but it turned out that when we followed the warg, it led us right back to you." Enguina smiled. "We made a gamble, but we were very lucky to find you at all."

Legolas nodded. _Was it so lucky, my Guin?_ "And what of you two?" he asked the couple skinning squirrels. "What is your story?"

"Our story?" laughed Arwen. "It is fairly short. The messenger from Ithilien arrived within a day or so of the assault so we immediately gathered ourselves and Annî and rode to Ithilien—"

"Annî as well?" asked Enguina, shocked. "She is so young!"

"We had no choice," said Aragorn, "and we could not very well leave her in Minas Tirith. When we arrived we found things just as awful as we assumed they would be, Faramir on the edge of death, Legolas taken, you and Gimli _missing_ …it was a typical mess."

"While Aragorn was healing Faramir, I was attacked in the stables by a man who had been stationed within the Rangers to throw others off the trail. We finally left on the trail ourselves and rode with all haste to you, where we found Londeglai—"

"Miserable place," said Aragorn softly and Legolas nodded.

"—and then raced to the camp where…everyone knows what happened once we arrived." Arwen sighed. "As Aragorn said, one of the typical messes that surround us and our family." She lifted her chin and looked at Legolas. "What of _your_ story, Legolas?"

"Honestly, there is not much to tell. I was unconscious at first, and when I woke I made my first escape attempt." He chuckled. "They were very angry about that one; I killed several of their men, escaping on horseback a few miles into the woods before I simply could not ride anymore. Scaling a tree, they found me easily, as the horse would not go away. Then there was the rain, which was good for slowing them down—"

"It slowed us as well," Enguina said sadly.

"And us," added Aragorn, "though we moved as quickly as we could."

"And then we arrived at Londeglai where I was introduced to Bragolaur and his plotting." He looked to Aragorn. "How close _are_ we to Eryn Lasgalen? Were we close? I have lost track of any distance these last few days, as ill and weak as I have been."

He shook his head. "You have at least another week's ride if you are not at a grueling pace trying to catch a group of snatchers."

Legolas sighed. "I am so grateful that we never made it that far." He gave a little smirk. "Would _that_ not be an interesting stop on this journey? 'Hello, Father, we happened to be in the neighborhood, even though my wedding is in another four weeks.'" He coughed a few times and Enguina made sure the cloth was still hot against his chest.

"Almost five," chided Enguina, looking pale. "Please, do not rush it as we are not nearly well enough to go home."

"Rush it?" laughed Legolas suddenly, kissing her fingers again. "I was talking Aragorn into it this morning before you woke."

Enguina looked at him, and Aragorn shook his head. "I said no, obviously."

"Legolas, there's no way possible that your father's there now," said Gimli. "He's most certainly already on his way as he'd go through Rohan, not _this_ way past the Black Land. If we were to go there now, we'd miss him for sure… _and_ the wedding you're trying to rush!"

Enguina smiled carefully. "We could not have that, Gimli."

"No, we couldn't!"

But it was after Enguina's words that Legolas found himself watching her carefully. It was true that, even though she appeared to be in better condition and in better spirits, on the inside there was a serious amount of pain…and there was no balm for it. He worried for her; how was she coping? Could he even speak to her about it? _Would_ she speak? Was it possible that she might really be all right? He knew that the nightmares would come; he was _expecting_ them. But might it be possible that he could just soothe her…remind her of his love and his protection and…keep her at his side? He hoped that were true.

* * *

 _His hands on her hips, his fingers dug deeply into her flesh, bruising with purpose. His hot breath fell upon her left breast as he left his mark on her, his teeth puncturing her skin. His knees pressed hers into the dirt as she lay prone beneath him, unable to move, unable to dislodge his body as she felt him press his hips toward hers. A whimper escaped her throat, and she pleaded with him. He was tugging against her hips and it was yanking her body down on her hands, tearing the holes in them even wider, cutting through her from the knife._

 _He would_ not _be gentle; he had said he was going to_ take _her, and_ take _her he would. She felt the pressure increase on her left hip and his lips brush against her chin. She choked on her own sobs, struggling and trying to pull away; she could make no movement._

 _Her body trembling even more harshly as she was unable to prevent the whimpering coming from her own throat, he whispered, his voice full of desire, "Now, fair love…I take you." He clamped his hand down hard over her mouth, bruising her skin and yanking on her already sore jaw. He then thrust forward, and shoved his hips down against her._

 _Pain seared through her like someone had rammed a poker through her body. Screaming into his hand was not enough and she writhed upon the ground, unable to get away or move on her own accord. This was it; this was what he had been waiting for as he pulled back from her and shoved forward again…harder…mercilessly. With every move, she was screaming; with every push, she was writhing, and then he grunted those words in her ear:_

' _Take it all, my little bitch!'_

Pain fired between her legs and through her abdomen as Enguina woke out of a restless sleep and rolled to her side, dizziness roaring through her and an inability to breathe. She could not even cry out from the dream, so ill was she; instead, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled towards the woods, finding solace a few feet out of their little clearing. Falling forward to her knees, jarring her ribs, she began retching, her stomach expelling every last bit of whatever she had eaten that day. Her head spun, her vision swam, and she struggled with controlling herself before she bent forward, retching again as she caught herself on one arm.

Three days…three _days_ they had been healing here in this place and she had no dreams. Now…

Her skin was _crawling_ with Bragolaur's touch, her mind still tangled within the terrible dream she had been having. Disgust and agony swept through her, and she felt his hands gripping her hips and forcing her to remain still, groping her breasts, stroking her ribs as she lay prone beneath him. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned her head from the vomit and touched against a nearby branch. A leaf brushed her neck and she reacted violently, twisting her head away, jarring her neck and upper body. She threw herself to her feet, stumbling through the woods and racing forward; _anything to escape!_ Trees and branches tore at her clothes from every side, still she ran. She was not supposed to be running, she was still weak, her ribs painfully seizing; still she ran. She ran from _that_ pain, from his hands, his touch, his kisses, his words, the very _breath_ of him on her skin…

And she ran so hard that she was in the river before she even realized that she had ended up there, water splashing out from around her on all sides, flying up in great waves. Never realizing that she had been doing it already, her nails were tearing along her arms, scratching without her knowledge, peeling back the skin and tearing bloody gashes in them; the pain never even registered. She felt hands on her breasts, and she tore at the skin there, too, her fingers catching in the buttons of her tunic and popping them, the front coming undone and washed from her left arm by the river. Caught on it, she began gasping for breath, yanking at it, _tearing_ at it until the rest of it came free from her right sleeve. Pain jolted through her ribs as most of the tunic washed away downriver.

Lips at her throat, fingers digging into her hips…she felt these phantom memories and began washing, scrubbing, _tearing_ at them in earnest. She could not feel the pain, but she could feel _him_ , _them_ , the men who had dropped her in the river, tossing her back and forth between them, naked, laid bare before them and _him_ …pushing himself into her. She was sobbing now, pain stabbing through her chest. It was all she knew, all she could _feel_ , and her legs began to tremble with the weight of her agony. Barely supporting her, she began to fall in the stream, stumbling; her left leg caught her once, and then it gave out, dropping her to her knees, head going under as she frantically tried to catch herself. She got a foot underneath her again and thrust herself to her feet, gasping and sputtering as she continued to scrub herself _desperately_ with the sleeve of her tunic that remained. She had to be rid of the feel of him everywhere!

* * *

The screaming in his head woke him, and panic set in when Legolas sat up, grimacing, and could not find her. Her mat had been near his, and the light blanket he had put over her form lay discarded a few feet from the mat, almost as if she had been wearing it while she rose. She was gone, that much was clear, and he had never been on his feet so quickly. It was not difficult to find her trail into the woods or to follow it; the path she had been running on was muddy, and her footprints were quite clear in the wet clay. He went faster, a hand tightening on his ribs—he should _not_ be running; his chest tightened and he held back the cough—no, he should _not_ be running. His thigh sent shooting pains through his leg every time his foot touched the ground as well. But he ignored it…he _had_ to. And then he came within sight of the river.

As soon as he struck moonlight, he averted his eyes from her; she was naked in the river, and he felt ashamed that he had panicked. Enguina had come at night for bathing, and he had hurried after her, worried that she was not safe; what a fool he was! He should go back to camp, and leave her be, and he turned to do just that. Then, above the sound of the rushing water, he heard the sobbing; immediately, he turned back and upon looking just a bit closer, noticed the way she was rubbing her skin, part of a cloth in her hand…and scratchingat it.

" _Guin!"_ he called to her, yet she neither turned nor acknowledged her name. Panic took his heart again, and Legolas raced to the shore, stopping just short of splashing into the water. If she _was_ having a nightmare, he knew how she would respond to him: she would lash out, trying to defend herself. There was nothing to be done; there was no way he could help her and not frighten her.

" _Arwen! Aragorn!"_ he yelled urgently and at the top of his voice, and then watched helplessly for only moments as she yanked and tore at her very skin. Her hand came up over her back, as it was to him, and she tore a few deep furrows where her nails had touched.

He could _not_ stand there one moment longer. Lunging forward, he waded into the water, unable to do anything but go to her, stop her from injuring herself. Calling her name and having her completely unresponsive frightened him, and his hand closed on her arm. She thrashed in the water, her legs going out from underneath her, and then he felt her kick him in the legs, _hard_. Agony poured through his thigh and he released her arm, his hands dropping to keep his leg from going out from underneath him. Legolas stumbled and reached for her again as she came back up out of the water, seeing the cuts and slashes she had already made across parts of her skin.

" _Guin! Guin, stop!"_ he cried, and then all his breath left him as she struck him across the chest. He went down for sure that time, choking with the illness that still lingered, his broken ribs searing with even more agony than his leg had taken; his head went under as he struggled to go back and protect himself from her, but she was already hurrying in the opposite direction.

And then suddenly, she was gone. Her legs were yanked out from beneath her and she was towed under by the force of the water. The storm had caused the river to be so much higher, and she, still trapped under the terror of her fear, was dragged away from him. Legolas reached for her, crying out, but he just missed the end of her fingers. " _No, Guin! Nooo!_ "

At that moment, out of the woods appeared both Aragorn and Arwen, Gimli running behind them in quite a hurry. The situation assessed in a moment, Aragorn turned and bolted along the shoreline, looking for a place to hurry in. Arwen hurried after him, limping and trying to ignore the pain in her knee as she screamed Enguina's name. Gimli waded out to help bring Legolas back in, but he fought against the dwarf.

"Legolas!" the dwarf cried. He could not go out and reach him; Gimli could not swim and the water was far too deep for him. "Legolas, come back here, lad!"

"No, no! I must bring her in, Gimli!" he cried as he took a step further downstream, but there was no way he could catch up with her now. He stumbled back, Gimli grabbing him as he began choking half-collapsing on the dwarf as he pulled Legolas's arm over his shoulder and hauled him out onto the bank. Gasping for breath he pulled himself upright and pointed. Gimli helped him stumble along downriver.

Ahead, Aragorn scrambled down the bank and dove into the deep water, powerful strokes carrying him out to Enguina's side as she thrashed, terrified, gasping for breath. Her hand hit his shoulder and she shied away, kicking him with her leg. Even spitting water and drowning, she fought him, thinking she was in the nightmare and he was Hrigow, trying to drag her under. He reached out and caught her beneath the arm, gripping tightly even as she tried to claw him, and he tugged her into his chest where she struck him underneath the chin with her fist.

It was a good hit, and he went under, but came up in a second, shaking water from his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fallen tree hanging down into the river, and he knew he had to get her, no matter what she did to him; he could not let her hit it or she might actually drown. Thrusting with his legs, Aragorn reached out and snatched her around the chest with his arm and dragged her into him. He could hardly hold the two of them above the water, and with his arm about her chest she panicked, skin to skin. He tried to say her name, but while spitting out water himself and trying to tow them toward the shore, it was nearly impossible.

" _Aragorn!_ " He heard Arwen scream, and he saw that there was nothing that was going to prevent Enguina from hitting that tree; he could not pull away against the current taking them, not with her struggling against him the way she was. They were on a course directly towards it, the flow of the water rushing them to its branches. Grunting, taking hits to the ribs from Enguina's elbows as he tried desperately to keep her afloat and her head above water, he shoved himself about, turning his back to the tree and protecting her body.

He _hit_ …the impact knocked the wind out of him, nearly jarred Enguina out of his arms, and brought him sudden and _agonizing_ pain. He cried out in her ear, his right arm dropping from her; even as he tried to hold on with his left, she was slipping. There was thrashing in the water, and he saw Arwen making her way to him, Gimli and Legolas now standing in the rushing shallows. He did the only thing he could think of to do; unable to hold her up any longer, he shoved her as hard as he could through the current to Arwen.

She caught Enguina by the arms and towed her up out of the water to her feet and into her arms. Coughing and spitting up water, Enguina half-collapsed against her, and Arwen began dragging her back towards the shore. The older elf was sobbing, body trembling both from the near-drowning and the terrors of her dream. She was awake at the moment; she could hear Arwen saying her name, Arwen's hands on her…she knew who held her now. Arwen flung her head up and saw her husband still clinging to the tree in the center of the river, water rushing over his face.

"Aragorn!" she cried out, terrified he might drown, and when she hit the shallows and Legolas reached for Enguina she shook her head. " _Aragorn_ , Legolas," she gasped, terrified for her husband, "you must get to Aragorn! You cannot touch her just now, _please!_ "

Gimli hurried into the water, but the water was far too deep for him; he could not get out to Aragorn, and clearly there was something seriously wrong. The man was still facing the rushing water, the edges of his left fingertips grasping the log as he tried to hold himself up out of the water, straining to gasp for air, water splashing him in the face. "Aragorn _,_ " Gimli hollered, "get in here _now_!" The man tried; he truly did, but he cried out again, his eyes closing as his held fell back against the tree and he swallowed more water.

And then, thank Ilúvatar, Legolas stumbled towards him through the current, grabbing onto the tree to hold himself beside the man, everything in him aching as well. He was shaking now, chilled to the bone as he reached Aragorn and tried to lift his head out of the water.

"Aragorn," he gasped, "what the _hell_ —?" Then the elf saw and did not need the man to answer. When Aragorn had spun about to protect Enguina, he had impaled his right shoulder on a tree limb. The force of the current kept him there, the branch protruding from his chest as he was unable to free himself. "Ilúvatar," Legolas muttered, and grasping Aragorn, he poured all of his strength into freeing him. Tugging him several times forward and against the current, the elf was reaching his exhaustion point, and with Aragorn nearly dead weight in his arms he could barely support him. "Aragorn," he gasped, choking, "you _have_ to help me!"

"Legolas, get out of there!" hollered Gimli at him, but the elf was not going to leave Aragorn. Gimli was helpless in the deep water. "I can't reach you both!"

Legolas yanked again with all of his strength and Aragorn fell free, collapsing heavily against him, his head lolling into the elf's neck. He quickly wrapped an arm under the man's chest, but he was shaking so bad he could barely hold him. Fear was smothering Legolas; if he could not hold onto him, they might _both_ drown. "Aragorn, Aragorn," he panted, coughing again and groaning as every injury he had suffered ached with agony, "you have to help me! _I cannot hold you!_ "

It was the terror in the elf's voice that broke through the dark stupor Aragorn had found himself in. Thrashing once, Legolas tried desperately to tow him towards the shallow water, Gimli reaching for them both. Aragorn's foot fell against the tree and he shoved them off, propelling them towards the dwarf. Gimli _just_ caught the edge of the elf's tunic with one hand, but that was enough to tow him to the shallows and help him get his feet under him.

"Gimli, _help_ me," Legolas cried, nearly dropping the man but the dwarf grabbed him beneath the arm and helped drag him to shore where the three of them collapsed upon the bank; Legolas's leg had finally had enough. Aragorn's breath was coming out in short huffs, and he lay still, unable to move. Gimli was the first to sit up, struggling to pull his leg out from beneath Aragorn's weight.

Ten or fifteen paces away from them, Arwen sat on the bank holding Enguina, covering her chest with her arms and holding her close. Half-naked, the elf was freezing, trembling in her arms from the cold and from fear, her hands clutching at Arwen's sides as she sobbed. Arwen rested her head on Enguina's, but her heart was with the men on the bank. She comforted Enguina; she was the only one who could do it right now, but she was terrified for Aragorn, and she yearned to be at his side. Torn, she did the only thing she could do…stay with Enguina, who clung to her as though she were a rock in a storm. Even from this distance and in the darkness of night, she could see his hot blood. _Estel…Estel!_ _It will be all right…I will be right there_! Her hands began to tremble and her heart was in her throat.

"What're you, mad?!" She heard Gimli bellow at Aragorn who lay far too still in the grass. The dwarf stared down at him, suddenly realizing as Legolas hauled himself to a sitting position despite his own pain, what was really happening. Leaning over him, the trembling elf began undoing the man's tunic, though Aragorn's face was a mask of pain.

"H-how b-bad is it?" he gasped, all adrenaline gone as Legolas tugged aside the shirt to see the wound. Legolas grimaced and turned his head half-away; Gimli cursed aloud.

"Bad," he said, shaking his head. " _Terrible_ , in fact. Do not move."

"That…will not…problem," Aragorn struggled out, keeping his eyes tightly closed. Legolas had never seen him in so much pain; struggling with exhaustion, yes, but not in _physical pain._ It was hard to see. The man was trembling as much as he was.

"Gimli," Legolas said, turning back to him, "you are the only one for the work. Hurry back to camp and get some bandages; this needs to be wrapped and packed immediately. And you need to bring a tunic for Enguina, and blankets; it is freezing out here." Gimli knew that well enough as he was cold already. He hurried off, trying not to look at Arwen and Enguina as he made off into the woods.

Legolas leaned over and pressed his shaking hands down onto the wound in Aragorn's shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding by forcing it between his hands and his own leg, which still remained underneath the man. Aragorn cried out again, loudly, unable to hold back with the agony; his breath coming out in gasps. A few meters away, Arwen's hands tightened on Enguina and her body jerked, desperate to run to him. She could _not_ let Enguina go!

"You _stupid_ —you _idiotic_ —" Legolas stuttered, seeing how much pain he was in, "you complete _ass_. How could you do something so _stupid_?" His teeth were chattering now. He barely had the strength to keep _himself_ upright, never mind put pressure on this wound.

"I c-could not pull her away," he gasped out. "She pulled against me; I had no choice. I—" his voice cut out and he gritted his teeth, knocking his head against the ground before he began writhing. " _I could not let her hit!_ " he groaned. " _She would have been dead_."

Legolas stared down at him, holding his hands as tightly as he could to the wound. "Thank Ilúvatar for you, Aragorn," he whispered, pressing down with as much force as he could.

Gimli came rushing back into the camp, dropping a tunic and blankets near Enguina and Arwen. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "it's not one of hers. It's all I could grab!" He hurried to Aragorn and dropped to his knees beside Legolas with every other supply he could have carried. "You're freezing, laddie! You both are! Let me light a fire!"

Legolas shook his head. "Th-there is n-n-no time. I am no Healer. He n-n-needs Arwen, who knows what she is doing," he said, and he lifted his head to see Enguina's back now clothed as Arwen was buttoning up the much larger tunic over her form. "I w-will go to Enguina; take your hands, Gimli, and place them here. _H-hurry_ , Gimli." Legolas pulled his hand away, and Gimli grabbed the wound with his large hands, pressing his hands together, one beneath the wound and one above, as though they would meet through Aragorn's body. Aragorn cried out again, and this time he _did_ writhe, his body out of control with pain. Legolas yanked himself out from underneath him, his leg slick with Aragorn's blood.

"Legolas, you've got to get warm," Gimli said, nodding behind him. "There're blankets, _please!_ You'll be ill again!"

As if to emphasize that point, Legolas burst into a fit of coughing before collecting himself. As he hauled himself to his knees, he pulled off his soaking wet tunic and yanked on the dry one that was nearby—it was one of Gimli's, just as Enguina's had been. He pulled the blanket around himself, and still shivering, looked down at the man who was striking his own head against the ground.

"I want to make you unconscious," Legolas muttered, and in spite of the roaring pain in Aragorn's shoulder, he choked out a laugh.

" _Please do_ ," he groaned out, "if you can do it with one strike."

The elf looked down at him, sympathy in his eyes. "I cannot. I do not have the strength just now. Perhaps the dwarf—"

"I'm not knocking him out with my fist!" cried Gimli.

Through gritted teeth, Aragorn grunted, "Have you never wanted to hit me, Master Dwarf?"

Arwen closed her eyes, reaching out to Aragorn and taking as much of his pain as she could into herself, her hands tightening on Enguina automatically as she staggered beneath the weight of it. She could hardly stay still, her need to go to him so great, and she was on her knees beside Enguina now, half-torn. Legolas stumbled to her side, nearly dragging his weak leg and he reached down, grabbing her shoulder.

"Arwen," Legolas said his stuttering only slight now, "let me take her. Aragorn needs you right now. Let me hold her, _please_." He dropped to his knees, his leg giving out again, his hip paining, his ribs jarring as he hit the ground. Reaching out, he took Enguina's arms in his hands and brought her gently back from Arwen. She released her and Enguina tensed, but there was nothing she could do—Arwen _had_ to go.

" _No…_ " she whispered brokenly, and Legolas brushed it aside, refusing to be hurt by her words. Instead, he turned her in towards his chest and brought her to rest against him as Arwen fled to Aragorn, nearly falling herself as she made her way to his side.

"Yes," he murmured, "take shelter in me, Guin. Let me bring you peace." He took one of the blankets off the ground and wrapped it around her, rubbing her back gently. He could see the scrapes from her own hands along the skin of her neck, and this close to her in the moonlight, he could see the marks on her skin from Bragolaur's teeth. It made him sick to his stomach, but he held her close, wishing that he could just rinse them from her. He felt her hands slowly draw in between them as she gave into him; she turned her face into his neck and he could feel her tears falling there. These small cuts he could take care of when she was warm enough; Aragorn's larger wound, not so much.

Arwen was at Aragorn's side in a moment, gripping his hand. "Aragorn," she said softly, tears in her eyes from her worry for him, and he opened his eyes, staring at her face as she rested her other hand upon his chest. Her gift, even though it was small, warmed his chest. "Gimli, let me see the wound."

"The bleeding's slowed a bit," the dwarf muttered and raised his hand, "but the wound goes straight through. It's bad, Arwen."

It _was_ bad…as bad as Gimli said. She could feel Aragorn tensing beneath her hand as the dwarf pulled his hand away. The wound needed to be packed and wrapped quickly, before anything else could settle in it.

"Ilúvatar, Estel," she whispered, "this is _not_ good."

"Just a surface wound," he replied, but the pain he was in roared through her head and his voice was weak. He was in more pain than she had ever seen him; it frightened her—the weakness in his voice, the amount of blood on the ground around him.

"You cannot call this crater in your chest a surface wound," she said, her anxiety increasing. She needed to do this right, and she was going to need Gimli's help to do it. Thankfully, Gimli had also been able to bring the saddlebag full of herbs, so they immediately began working on the wound together. Arwen's hands began to shake, his pain so loud in her head that she suddenly realized what it must have been like for him these last few months when he had to deal with her screaming.

"You all right, lass?" Gimli asked and she shook her head, gasping.

Taking her bloodied hand, she pressed it to his forehead. " _Sleep, Estel_." It was so abrupt that he was still instead of writhing that even Gimli gasped, and she was suddenly terrified of making him sleep, afraid she would never see his grey eyes again. But she had no choice; she had to make him unconscious even if it was not for long or she would never be able to do this, stop her hands from shaking at his pain. She needed all of her healing abilities right now, and his pained voice in her head could not be with her. She focused herself and tried desperately to think of only what she was doing—not _who_ she was working on.

* * *

Legolas could hear Arwen whispering to Aragorn as she sat beside him; Gimli had finally been able to build a fire. The dwarf had gone back to retrieve the horses—none of them were in any state to return to the camp they had been in for the last three days, Gimli the only one without injury to the wounds he had already sustained. Instead, he was bringing the camp to them. This way, they would be much closer to the water they all needed.

He fingered the edges of the strands of Enguina's hair; she had stopped crying and she simply lay trembling in his arms, frightened, and just as exhausted as he was, his head now resting on hers. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he was unsure what exactly to say. Should they talk? Was now the best time, when everything was so close at hand? He realized they had never spoken of her dreams; she had never told him about them after everything that had happened. She had been intending to tell him that night, had been going to tell him the truth, and then he had been taken, and then this whole mess with Bragolaur, and then—

" _I am so sorry_ …" came her whispered words, heartbroken, devastated. He smoothed his fingers through her hair as he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, "I _hurt_ you…I am _always_ doing that. I am always hurting you."

He shook his head. "No…the nightmare is always hurting _you_ ," he whispered. "But you are safe, Guin…you are safe now, and Ilúvatar will keep you safe in my arms."

"I did not know what I was doing," she groaned. "I hurt you…I can see the marks…I did not even know it was you. I was so afraid…"

"You nearly drowned," he whispered. "You were swept away by the river—"

Her breath caught and she buried her face more deeply into his neck. "In my mind, I thought you were Hrigow," she said, her voice shaking as her body continued to tremble. "He and Stetlan dragged me down to the river and…and…"

"It is all right," he whispered, stroking her hair. "You can tell me."

"They bathed me," she said, choking on the words, horrified. "They took my clothes and then tossed me into the water." He was appalled at her words, his arms tightening around her. He knew her hatred of water, not why, but he knew about it; he knew she had always shied away from being wet. How terrified she must have been! And unclothed? He was almost sorry they were dead; he wished he could have killed them all himself. He must not let her see that…that tendency towards a fierce temper, fierce defense of her, frightening anger.

"Oh, Guin…"

"They shoved me back and forth between them, and they…they touched me…and I went under…and I thought I was going to drown… _I was so afraid_." She gasped the last words. Her hands were so _sore_ , but she wrapped her fingers more tightly into his tunic, clutching him as if holding herself to him, as if she could not bear to let him go, as if he would slip away through her fingers. "And then they clothed me, and brought me to _him_ …"

"They cannot hurt you anymore, _moina_ _quén_ ," he told her, but in his heart he was so angry about what they had done. She had been so hurt by these men…if he had known…oh! the vengeance he would have inflicted upon them!

She was silent for a moment, thinking about her nightmares, about how she had hurt him, how she had hurt herself. She was waiting for it, waiting for him to say the words that would end it all, that would break her heart forever. Holding him even more tightly, she pressed her face to his neck, and he noticed the change in her, the way she was holding him. Her hands pained her, but she still pulled.

"Guin, what is it?" he asked. He could not ask what was wrong; her world was upside-down, _everything_ was wrong.

"I…I keep waiting…I keep waiting for you to say the words…for you to say…"

"Say what?" he asked gently. "What are you waiting for me to say?"

" _Good-bye_." The word left her mouth and silent tears slipped down her face.

"What?" he said, completely confused. Did he not talk about marrying her? Did he not hold her, tell her he loved her? At _least_ twenty-five times or more in the last two days!"Why would I—"

"I keep wondering when you will have had enough." Her voice was so broken and sad. "I keep thinking that at some point you are going to say 'I cannot do this anymore. This is not what I wanted, what I expected; I cannot love someone who is so…so…so _ruined_.'"

"Stop, stop," he said, his arm holding her even tighter as his hand found her face. She flinched as his fingers traced the bruises and scars there and then towards her neck, but he continued to do it. "Stop _saying_ things like that. You are not—"

" _Yes I am_!" she choked out, crying softly. "He struck me, h-he _touched_ me. In heaven's name, he _entered_ me, Legolas! He held me down and he thrust himself inside me!" He flinched as though she had struck him, and her words certainly had as he remembered those moments, her screams of pain. "I _know_ you saw! _I_ _know you did!_ " She began weeping then and trying to pull away, but he would not let her; not now, not ever.

" _I did see_ ," he told her gently. "I _did;_ I saw what he did, how he hurt you, how he put his hands on you, how he forced himself on you. He did it so I would see, the despicable being…but none of that was your fault. It was _him_ ; _he_ was the one who hurt you. That does not change how I feel."

"It _should_! I…I am not _pure_ …I am not _whole_. A woman _should_ be… _your_ wife should be. And I...I cannot _understand_ ," she said, choking on the words, full of disbelief that they were coming out of her mouth, "how you could love me…how you could _want_ me, when another man has…when _he_ …"

"I…I do not _care_ what he did, except that it affects you, that you are wounded, hurting," and he felt her flinch. "I care about _you,_ that he hurt you, abused you in a way that you should never have been." He pulled her back from him carefully and cupped her face in his hands. "Look at me, Guin."

"I _cannot_! I cannot look at you, see your eyes shining at me. I cannot believe it…I cannot believe that you could possibly still want to marry me, not after this, not after knowing the truth about me."

"The truth about _you_?" he whispered hoarsely. "Guin, I have known the truth about you since I met you! What did I not know? That someone in your past had severely hurt you? That you did not wish to trust me? That you had nightmares that haunted you and sometimes caused you to lash out and fight unseen demons? Guin, _look_ at me!"

His words were full of pain, and the order in them made her obey, even when she did not want to. She opened her eyes, tears flooding out of them as she met his, hers full of grief, of the terror of him telling her farewell. "That I had been assaulted, abused."

"I did not know the particulars of your nightmares," he agreed, "but I did not need them to love you. I did not need to know every detail to know you had stolen my heart from my chest and that nothing would ever change that. I _belong_ to you. Every part of me…every bit of my soul is yours; it has been touched by you, it clings to you. _Nothing_ can change that. I _love_ you, Enguina."

"You _cannot_ love me," she stated flatly. "What is there left to love?"

"I love the way your hair dries in the sun," he said suddenly, his fingers tightening and holding her very still, very close to his face. "I love the way you laugh when I tell you something funny, when I tease you. I love the way you stroke Lómë's forehead and whisper to him when you think I am not looking. I love the way you tighten your hand in mine if you are anxious or afraid. I love the way you look at me over your shoulder; the way you _blink_ , the way your eyelashes come down and cover your eyes. I love the way you laugh, the way you smile at me as though I am the only person that matters. I love when you run through the grass of the Pelennor as fast as you can to escape my reaching arms." He laughed out loud as she began to cry again, listening to his words. "I _love_ watching you run. I love to see you sitting with Arwen and laughing with her, spending time with Gimli and his people, singing in the morning with your eyes lifted to the sky… _Enguina_ …I _adore you…everything about you_ , from your perfect toes to the last strand of golden hair on your head, from the kindness of your heart to the stubbornness of your spirit. I _love_ you, so much that I cannot bear to think of a day I would not be at your side.

"I will never leave you, Guin," he whispered. "I am not going to say goodbye…not now, not ever. I am never leaving you, unless you send me away or you beg it of me. And then I would…and I would die of a broken heart," he told her honestly. "I cannot live in a world where you are not with me. I cannot be without you. If you will stay, if you _can_ stay…then I would have you as my wife, at my side, forever and always…for the rest of my days, Enguina. I _swear_ I will love you. My love will never fail, never fade away, nothing will change it. When I told you that night so long ago that you are all my heart knew of love, I meant it. I meant every word; I promised my heart to you…it _belongs_ to you. It could never be another's."

Enguina wiped her face and her breath caught again. "He has taken everything that I would have given only to you."

"But you never gave it to him," he told her. "You never gave him _anything_ ; you would not, because I am yours, and you are mine…just as we pledged to each other that night in the White Mountains. He could not take what you did not give away, and you will only give yourself to _me_. And me alone." She stared at him as his thumbs stroked her cheeks. "Just as I will only give myself to _you_ and you alone. We belong to each other only, therefore, he could not take from you what you did not give. You _are_ pure, Enguina, because you have been waiting for me."

She choked back a sob, and he smiled at her. " _Ilúvatar in Heaven_ ," she whispered, " _I do not deserve you._ _Your kindness, your goodness, your faith…I do not…I do not deserve it._ "

"Ilúvatar blesses us all," he said gently, "just as he has blessed me with you."

Enguina shook her head from side to side very slowly. "I have received all the blessing."

"You are so wrong…you only have not realized it yet."

"I am…I am yours…" she said softly, thinking about his words.

"That is right," he agreed with her slowly. "And _I_ am yours. I belong to you, just as you belong to me. We are pledged to one another." He touched her face and rubbed his fingers along it again, and this time, she did not flinch. "We are to be wed…we will have one another, forever. And when we _are_ wed, I will…I will rub out every mark," he whispered, his voice lowering so that only she could hear him as he leaned his forehead to hers, "and I will erase every kiss, and I will wipe away every touch he ever made on you, and I will remove every possible hold that he has had on you for the last fifty years. He said you were his, I say _no."_ He spoke fervently, passionately. "You are his _no longer_ …you are _mine_." He felt her swallow against his fingers. "And if you will continue to have me, I would keep you forever, in my arms, close to my heart."

" _Legolas_ ," she whispered, and he closed the insignificant gap between their lips and kissed her, softly, gently, as though it could last for hours, and she was reminded of that first moment of that first real kiss, how free she felt, how _wonderful_ it was to be _loved_ , to feel the heat of utter bliss and joy that was kissing him and being kissed. She loved him, and even if she was so afraid at times, her heart belonged to him, just as he had said his belonged to her.

Eventually, he would begin taking a look at the scratches she had made on herself, but for the moment reminding her that she was loved, that he cherished and adored her more than anything else in the world, in his entire existence, was what she needed.


	27. Chapter 27

Author's Note: There are three songs in this chapter. The first two were written by me, but the last is, "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee," which is a traditional hymn and was not written by me, nor do I own it! Enjoy!

* * *

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes, and found that it was morning. He blinked again and found Arwen sitting beside him; he heard no other sounds, but he could feel that the entire right side of his chest and arm ached like…well, like nothing he had ever felt before. There were other times when he had been stabbed with a knife or a sword, but he guessed that being impaled on a dirty, great stick was a bit different. He could hardly turn his head without agony, but he did it anyway, taking in the vision of Arwen in the morning light, and wondering why in the world she had not greeted him yet. Arwen's right hand was on his chest, her shoulders slumped slightly, the fingers on her left hand trembling, her forehead beaded with sweat. _What is she doing?_

" _Ilúvatar, please,_ " she whispered, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, " _please help me take away his pain, heal him. Use my gifts, however weak I am, and let the healing power of your spirit enter him. Save him, Father_ ," he heard her breath catch, " _please, I beg you…I am so afraid…_ "

He lifted his left hand and rested it over hers. "Arwen," he said softly, and she took a breath slowly, turning her head to look into his face, "good morning, beloved."

Her left hand went directly to his face. "You scared me half-to-death," she told him, and he saw tears in her eyes. She could see his pain in his.

"You look exhausted."

"I was…" she blushed, embarrassed, and looked away and he tightened his hand on hers. "I was trying to make you more comfortable." Her voice was a whisper. "My gift is nothing like yours."

He stared at her. "Have you been awake all night?" She would not look at him.

"I…could not rest, not with the memory of your pain in my head." Arwen lifted a cup for him. "Here, I made this for you…when you woke. I followed your recipe; everyone has had some, but you need it most. This, at least, I can do."

"Arwen—"

" _Please_ ," she said, her voice pained, and he simply looked at her for a moment. Very suddenly, he realized that this was the first time when she had seen him seriously injured, Lothlórien notwithstanding. This was the first time, as her husband, that there was something terribly wrong and she had been helpless to aid him. She was clearly afraid for him.

"It is all right," he told her gently. "I am going to be all right."

"The wound is…it is not small," she whispered, her voice sounding _very_ small. "I do not _know_ if you are going to be all right."

"I am," he said. "I can feel it. You and I shall look at the wound together later."

She nodded, unable to speak for a moment, but he moved to sit up and found that he could not. She slipped her hand beneath his head and helped him drink the cup. She watched him solicitously, and then he grimaced and smiled at her. "Ugh…you can always tell when it is made correctly." Then he laughed, reaching out to touch her face with his left hand. "I am going to be fine. I promise you."

She closed her eyes at the touch of his hand. _Good…perhaps I can breathe again._

He heard the words in his head, clear as day. This only happened when they were close to one another, when they shared everything—thoughts, feelings, words; the relief she clearly felt was audible in his head and his ears. He smiled again. "Enguina?" he asked softly.

"She is…all right. She was with Legolas last night while Gimli and I were with you," she told him, and he suddenly saw Enguina rise from beside Legolas from over Arwen's shoulder. "She feels—"

"Awful!" Enguina cried out, coming over to him and lowering herself to her knees beside him. "By Ilúvatar, I am _so sorry!_ I did not mean to—"

"Enguina," he said, smiling gently, "none of this was your doing, and it most certainly was not your fault. Can you control the current of the river?" Arwen slipped her leg underneath his head, holding him a bit more upright so that he could talk to her. She did not want him sitting up.

"I should have known it was you, all of you," Enguina said firmly. "When Legolas told me what I did—"

"What _you_ did?" he asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

" _Her_ words, not mine," Legolas insisted. He had limped over to stand behind her, and Aragorn looked up at him. "When she found out you had been so terribly wounded, she, of course, internalized that it was her fault. You _know_ how she is."

"Indeed," he said softly, looking back to her as she looked away from his eyes. "What were some of my first words to you, Enguina?"

She winced and then sighed softly, looking down as his hand covered hers. "That we cannot control how we react to our dreams."

He nodded. "Good, now tell yourself that and lay no blame."

"You protected me," she said softly. "Again… _again_ you choose me over your own safety and—"

Aragorn laughed softly, squeezing her hand. "Oh, Enguina, _Enguina_ , will you never learn? You are my family, and I would no sooner allow you to be smashed to bits over a log than I would Arwen."

"Thank you, love," Arwen said dryly, and Legolas laughed.

Enguina smiled and looked down, becoming serious again. "I…cannot stop thinking about what you all have done for me. I do not know how to thank any of you."

"We have done nothing that you would not do for every one of us," he said, "if you could." He looked up at Legolas. "Is everything all right?" he asked softly, and Enguina watched the exchange as Legolas nodded slowly. "You were limping," he stated, his voice a bit stronger, and Enguina knew that the first question had nothing to do with the accusation that he was limping. It probably should have made her angry that Aragorn was referencing her, right in front of her…but instead it simply made her see their concern for her.

The elf smiled in return. "Awake not even five minutes and your eyes miss nothing. Yes, I pulled _most_ of my wounds again running through the water…and swimming out to you." He rolled his eyes. "My ribs are not enjoying themselves either this morning, but Arwen was kind enough to make us all some of your _delicious_ tea, and therefore, we have been feeling a bit better. My chest is not as tight today, so perhaps the cold water did me good surprisingly."

"So, we should be able to ride a few miles today, then, hmm?"

"Absolutely not," Arwen said immediately, and Enguina stared at the man with wide eyes.

Aragorn laughed. "This is a tough crowd."

"I know," laughed Legolas as well.

"Perhaps tomorrow then," he said holding up his hand to ward off their irritated stares. "We need to get on the road or we will be _very_ late returning home. Where is the dwarf?"

"Hunting. He was hungry again, and he wanted to prove that he was just as skilled with his throwing axes as Arwen was with her bow a few days ago."

"As if he has anything to prove," Enguina said softly. "He helped me kill several wargs with those axes; I would never doubt him."

Aragorn shook his head with a smile. "He was simply trying to make a good argument for going hunting, and make himself scarce for a little while. When he returns, I am sure we will all be feasting on squirrels and the like." He paused a moment, and then grew a bit more serious again, "And how is the morning light finding you, Enguina? Has the dawn chased away some of the shadows from your dreams?"

She looked at him a moment and nodded slowly. "Some of them. Some of them…linger."

"Give it time." His voice was gentle.

"I told her she needs to spend more of it with me," Legolas said, his voice with a lilt to it that made Enguina blush. "She wonders if I am not still ill and the fever has not addled my brain."

"You are always teasing her, Legolas," Arwen chided him, but with a smile.

"I live but to make Enguina blush."

"And I must live but to fulfill your desire to see my face redden, I suppose," she said softly, with a teasing tone herself, looking up to meet his eyes. He flashed a most delightful smile at her. Aragorn smiled to himself before touching Arwen's chin again.

"And how are you, Arwen?" he asked, his voice even quieter still.

"Wonderful," she replied, covering his hand with her own, " _you are breathing._ " Several unsaid things passed between them, and Enguina was embarrassed, feeling as though she was spying on an intimate moment not meant to be seen. She looked away and studied Legolas's bare feet; he was studying hers, not that she knew it.

Aragorn suddenly smiled at her, trying to make light of it. "You give me no credit, beloved."

She looked at him seriously as Legolas drew Enguina to her feet from beside Aragorn. "You could not see yourself breathing last night. You worried me."

He knew that was an understatement. "You should rest," he said. "You have exhausted yourself all night long. More rest today means more miles tomorrow."

" _And_ she probably injured her knee further by running along the river," added Legolas.

Arwen scowled at him, and Aragorn sighed. "That is, if I am allowed to sit up by tonight."

"We shall see," Enguina said, shaking her head. "That is a serious wound."

"We have to begin heading home, no matter how weary we are," Legolas said softly. "We have only four weeks before the wedding, and much to do."

"Is it really that soon?" Enguina asked, worried. "What if we do not make it back in time?" She paled a bit, but added miserably, "We may have to think about delayi—"

"No," Legolas said firmly, adamantly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I _refuse_ to delay the wedding. We will ride out tomorrow and we will get there whenever we can, but I am not waiting any longer before I marry her."

Aragorn smiled at the look on Enguina's shocked face. "Well, you made that very clear, Legolas," he said. "No one would even dream of challenging that statement."

He laughed softly. "Forgive me, I just…I do not want to wait any longer than I have to."

"Tomorrow morning it is."

* * *

Things were very quiet in Henneth Annûn. Faramir walked slowly along the stone stairs, Galen beside him, and the man could sense his lieutenant was ready to grab his arm if he lost his balance. He was struggling to recover. His wounds had been severe, and he had nearly died. This was the second time that he had been blessed by Ilúvatar and been given his life back by Aragorn…and he had not even been awake to thank the man. He had spent the first four days since their departure lying around and playing hooky with his daughter, and it had given Faramir a bit more perspective on the more important things in life. Annî knew he had been injured, but she did not dwell on it, as she was a child, and she put the sunshine in his day. Éowyn, however…she was a different story entirely.

He _had_ to take a walk without her today; she was driving him _mad_ with her worrying. Yes, he was sore…yes, he was in pain…but there was nothing he could do about any of those things. Galen was worried for him as well, but at least he did not voice it, ask him constantly if he could get him something or…and now he felt guiltier than ever. He had only begun to start walking about three days ago, and though it was uncomfortable, it had to be done. The first day he walked a few steps and nearly collapsed; the second he had taken numerous trips but was exhausted in between them. Today he was a bit better. He _needed_ to return to the land of the living; Éowyn had been at his side for every moment. _That_ was fine. He wanted her there as much as she wanted to be there. She was clinging to him right now, and after nearly eight days of it, he was tired of her staring at him. He tried to be understanding; he was a worrier as well. He knew very well what he would be like if their situations were reversed—he would be annoying the _hell_ out of her, and he would continue to do it.

But, thankfully, she had given him his space tonight. He had taken an evening walk with Galen instead, and he knew that _she_ knew that he was grumpy. Now, he simply felt guilty. And he was _worried_. They had no word of Legolas, no word of Enguina and Gimli, and no word from Aragorn and Arwen. They could all be dead, though he thought that unlikely. _And_ there had been an attack on Arwen right _here_ , in Henneth Annûn! He could have shaken his head at the thought; it angered him that so many things had gone terribly wrong on this journey. Now it was four weeks until the wedding, and no one was even _in_ Minas Tirith!

He sighed as he reached the door to the little cavern that overlooked a part of the waterfall; this had become their home for the last few days. Galen touched his arm.

"Captain Faramir," he said softly, "are you well?"

"I am getting there, Galen," he said. "Do not worry for me. I just need a bit more time to heal. Thank you again, for walking with me."

"I cannot tell you, my Lord, how good it is to know you are recovering." The man bowed at the waist and walked away, and Faramir turned to the door, opened it, and went inside.

And stared about. The cavern was lit with burning candles— _dozens_ of them—that caught his eye everywhere he looked. They lit the walls and then waterfall behind, casting the most beautiful silhouettes, including one of his wife, who stood in the center of the burning lights. Éowyn was standing with her back to him, brushing her long golden hair, and it appeared had not even heard him enter over the sound of the rushing water. He could see the tired slope of her shoulders that gave way to the lingering fatigue she was feeling; she had not been sleeping well, so worried was she about him. This journey, though he had no idea what was going on with anyone else that was missing, had been wounding for him, but had been a nightmare for her. From the long, exhausting ride, to the search for him, to the endless worrying, to the caring for Annî, to the carrying of their child, she had been bearing so much, and he…suddenly felt as awful as he should.

What in the world had he been thinking earlier when he had 'escaped' her presence and watchful eye for an hour? How _dare_ he? What sort of husband was he, when she had been so dreadfully worried for his safety and had stayed at his side and cried over him, as Galen had told him? He felt every bit as awful as he felt tired…and rightfully so. He watched her some more, and found himself thinking that there was nothing more beautiful in all the world than Éowyn, her figure by candlelight, standing before the waterfall, the telling bulge of her graceful body that showed her eight months with child, and the way her hands reached up to continue brushing through her hair. Guilt struck him; he should have paid more attention to her…and he had no idea where his daughter was.

He stepped slowly towards her, more out of taking it easy on his body than because he had to, and he took her arms in his hands. He wanted to say a hundred things, but instead, he simply whispered, "And how are you this evening, my beautiful?" She did not startle, so she must have been expecting him or at least hoping for him. As she tilted her head, he could only see the side of her face.

"How are _you_ this evening, my Lord?" she asked, her voice equally soft. "How was your walk?"

"It was quiet," he replied, and he gently took the brush from her hand and then turned her towards him, allowing it to drop to the floor. As soon as he turned her to him, he could see a flash of worry on her face that disappeared. He sighed, reaching up his hand to lay it upon her face, "I am a little tired. Perhaps I should not have gone so far." He saw her fingers tighten and he frowned. "I am fine, Éowyn. You need not worry."

"I need not worry?" she repeated, a bit of irritation in her tone. "How…how could I not worry?"

He realized, of course, that it had been the wrong thing to say. Of course it had! She had not left his side for _days_ , worried sick over him, and he was telling her that she did not need to worry because he was with Galen? The last time they had been apart, he had nearly been killed! "Forgive me," he told her quietly. "Sometimes I am such a fool. I…the last thing in the entire world that I wanted to do was hurt your feelings."

"You have…you have only been feeling better for three days," she said. "You almost hurt yourself yesterday and fell. I know you do not want to hear me, but you _have_ to be careful."

"Where is Annî?" he asked, and she looked down, her cheeks growing red.

"She is with Tandaarin, fast asleep," she whispered. "I just…I needed…"

"A little quiet?" he said gently, and she nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes. Worried that there was something wrong, Faramir titled her chin up, concern filling his features. "What…are you all right, Éowyn?"

" _Oh…Faramir_ …" she whispered brokenly, and she gently dropped her head forward, burying it against him without harm to the wounds on his chest. He slipped his arms around her, his concern even heavier now. "I…I am so _sorry…so sorry…_ "

"Éowyn, Éowyn, for what? What are you so sorry for?" Stroking her hair, keeping her tightly to his chest, his heart was even racing.

"I have been so…so _worried_ about you! I have been thinking of nothing else except you these past days. I can still see you _lying_ there on the stones, barely breathing, on the doorstep of death…I thought…I thought…"

He kissed the top of her head, hearing the unspoken words clearly— _I thought you were going to die! I thought you were going to leave me!_ He could see her face in his head as he had looked up at her from his position on the mat, her head bent, praying for him. This pain she was feeling had been building since he had not come home. "I know, I know. It is all right. I am safe; thank Ilúvatar for Aragorn."

"I thought… _I thought I was going to have to tell Annî her father was not coming home. And I thought I was going to be a widow…that I would lose you."_ The words were coming out in a rush now. " _And I was so afraid! I was so afraid that I would be alone with two children, and I would not have my strength, my rock, my love, my life. How could I live…without you at my side?_ "

His breath caught as she spoke, thinking of how she could do this alone, thinking of how broken she would be, of what the loss of him would do to her. He remembered how her strong arms held him as he lay there; he remembered hearing her weep over him, even when she thought he was asleep. "I am here," he said. "I am so sorry. I would never abandon you to raise our children on your own, alone…I will always be here to care for you, my love." He lowered a hand to her womb and rubbed her skin gently through the thin fabric of her dress.

He heard her try to stifle another sob, and he shook his head. "It is all right to cry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair. "It is all right to be afraid…I was afraid, too." She clutched him, her hands on his shoulder blades as she began to cry in earnest, thinking of having fatherless children and being without the man she loved, adored. He could feel it in the way she held him, her hot tears pouring into the front of his tunic, and he wanted desperately to make it right, to take the pain back. But how could he? He had nearly died, and she _had_ nearly lost him. Why did he think she would not feel that so keenly? That she could simply forget and thank Ilúvatar that he was still with her now.

"I still _am_ afraid," he told her gently after a time as her tears began to quiet a little bit. "I am so worried for Legolas and the others. We have no idea where they are, what is going on, how much longer they will be gone. We only know from Soronar that they intended to use the elf to gain land. Did they succeed? Did Aragorn and Arwen find them? Are Enguina and Gimli all right?" He shook his head. "This journey has become a disaster."

He heard her sniff gently. "I have been praying for them, as well as for you."

"And you," he said, gently taking her arms in his hands again and holding her back from him, "you must be exhausted. Having to care for me and worry about this and care for yourself and the baby. You _are_ exhausted. You even sent Annî to someone else so you could rest; this was a good idea."

Her eyes fluttered closed, as though she were embarrassed to look him in the eye. "I…I needed…" she stuttered over the words again, the same as before.

"You need rest," he said gently, reaching one hand to her stomach and the other to stroke the hair from her face and lay a hand there, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "You shall get some tonight."

"R-rest?" she whispered, her voice hanging up on the word.

Faramir nodded. "Yes, my love, _real sleep_. Where there is nothing to interrupt you, no worries, no children…nothing that…" His words faded off as he realized that there were tears on her face again and he felt her fingers tighten on his back, her nails pinching his skin. He looked at her more closely.

"Rest is not… _no_ ," she whispered. "I do not wish for _rest_ , Faramir. I feel…I want…I…"

"What?" he said, staring down at her. "What is the matter, Éowyn?"

" _I need you_ …" she whispered, her voice breaking, and she could not look into his face.

"I am right here, love," he said, confusion on his face, cupping her cheek in his hand and feeling her swallow. "I am here."

"I…" Hot tears poured down her face and she choked on them. " _Oh, Faramir! I_ _need you tonight, Faramir. Please…please…_ " The words came out of her mouth as she begged him, her fingers tightening on his back as she began to pull herself closer to him, her pulse beginning to race beneath his fingers. Her voice was hoarse with pain, and, he abruptly noticed, with something much more obvious… _desire_.

And suddenly, he realized what a fool he had been. Here he was, thinking that she was exhausted, that she needed time, that she was completely upset and afraid and she needed to send Annî away for a few hours for some peace of mind when…when…all this time she had been hoping to get him alone. To be alone with _him_ , to hold him, to give herself to him, to shove back the fear she had been feeling since she thought he was dead. Her whole body was suddenly against him, as close as she could get with the baby between them, and he took her face between his hands and she stared into his eyes.

"The candles," he said softly. "Forgive me…I can be so…"

"I need to feel your arms around me," she whispered. Her skin was hot beneath his hands; she was _embarrassed_ by what she felt. She was embarrassed by how badly, how desperately she wanted him. " _I need to have your skin pressed against mine…just…just for a few hours…I…please..."_

"You need explain nothing to me, love, nothing," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. " _Ilúvatar_ , Éowyn, how I love you."

"I know you are tired, exhausted," she said, beginning to cry outright again. "It does not have to be long; you can sleep, rest…but, please… _please_ … _Faramir, I need to feel you…_ " Her voice had become a whimper, and he could bear it no longer.

"Oh _god_ , do not _beg_ ," he whispered, and he lowered his head, crushing his lips to hers, feeling her raw passion consuming him. Then, he scooped her from her feet, ignoring the sharp pains he felt in numerous places reminding him of his injuries, and carried her swiftly to the mat where they were to sleep. As he lay her down, he could not break his lips from hers, and he refused to release his hands from her burning skin. If it was the last thing he did, he would show her he was _alive_ …and that he _loved_ her with everything within himself.

* * *

The first day of the return home, Brego was leading the way. Confident and sure, he walked ahead, Asfaloth a pace behind off to his right. The bay knew the way back more easily than his rider, who was unsure of the quickest route home. The grey told Aragorn not to worry, and so here they were. Today was a day of walking; every one of the five of them were injured, some worse than others. Legolas and Enguina rode together on Morlómërog, who was more than happy to carry the both of them. Gimli had offered for Legolas to ride with him, for propriety's sake, but Legolas's reply was that he was more than happy to be improper, which caused Enguina to blush and Arwen to smile. Aragorn had turned to Gimli then to make a comment about Legolas's legs dragging on the while riding Firgenwine which everyone had to laugh at, and so the dwarf swore he was not going to speak to any of them on the ride home. This only lasted for as long as he remembered—which was no longer than a few minutes.

They had traveled for several hours when the conversation died to a comfortable silence. Arwen rode close enough to Aragorn to keep an eye on him without letting him know that it was what she was doing, knowing that his wound was certainly the worst of the company's wounds. Her shoulder was sore, but her knee was still the worse and she rode with her right foot hanging from the stirrup so she could rest it. She had reached over, moment's ago, and laid her hand over his on his leg, their knees bumping as they rode along together. Their mounts were bumping shoulders and breast collars, but they did not care, keeping in close conversation with each other. Their fingers intertwined and though Aragorn turned his head to look at her, her eyes were on their hands. For a moment, everything in the world was right, and quiet. They were together, and everyone was safe.

Behind them, Enguina laid her head back on Legolas's shoulder and smiled as he rested his temple against hers. He settled his arms about her more comfortably as he rode directly behind the saddle. Lómë continued to walk quickly behind the bay and grey, Firgenwine not far to his left, and Legolas had found that he was not uncomfortable at all in this position. He was quite lucky to be able to be holding her; he could be dead, she could be dead.

"Ilúvatar is so good," he whispered in her ear.

"Hmm?" she said, turning her head a bit towards him.

He smiled, lifted his head, and kissed her temple. "Ilúvatar is good; I get to hold you in my arms the entire journey home. We are together. He is good."

She smiled and turned her eyes forward again. "They are so beautiful together," she said softly, and he knew she was speaking of Aragorn and Arwen. He nodded. "Their love is so… _quiet_ …they are one another's hiding place." She paused, and he _waited_ for it. She obliged easily, "Unlike the way _you_ love."

He laughed aloud. "What is loud about the way I love you? Is it that I want to shout how much I love you from every rooftop in Gondor, from every treetop in Ithilien? Is it that I cannot help but tease you? Is it that I do not write you as much poetry as I should? I have another if you—"

" _No,_ " she stressed as she laughed. "No, no…did I not tell you I cannot survive your poetry?" She glanced back forward as he laughed at her words. "Do you think we look like that? To others, I mean."

"To some," he said softly. "But I will admit that I am…a bit more open with the way I love you. A bit more…"

"Improper, Legolas?" she teased him and he stroked her cheek.

"You do nothing to help me, _moina_ _quén_. You make me suffer daily," he admitted. "This wedding cannot come soon enough."

"Forgive me," she laughed, shaking her head and sitting up a little bit, "but I agree, even if it were tomorrow."

"If it were tomorrow, we would we miss it ourselves," he teased and she slapped the hand around her waist.

" _Troll_ ," she stressed and he began to laugh again. As he watched her face, a sly little smile came across it. He wondered at it.

"What? What are you thinking about?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?" she said with a smirk.

"Without a doubt."

"I heard a _story_ about you…"

"From who?" he asked suddenly, and she gave a wicked little grin. "Wait, it was the dwarf was it not? You know, not everything the dwarf says is true. What lies is he telling you about me? What further untruths does he spread? What deceptions and—"

"Ugh, Legolas, _please!_ " she laughed. "Never you mind…I am not saying another word."

He turned her chin towards him and looked most seriously into her eyes. "Enguina, if you do not tell me, I will take you from Lómë's back and I shall tickle you until you cannot breathe."

She stared at him. "I am not, in the least way, ticklish at all."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? I seem to recall—"

"I was pretending," she said flippantly.

He did not believe her for one second, but he gave her a slightly sinister smile that had the effect of making her swallow rather hard—the exact one he wanted. "Well… _everyone_ has at least _one_ spot that tickles them…" he murmured to her. "I will just have to start at the top and work my way around until I find it."

Enguina felt as though she should have startled at his words; she should have felt, that after the last few days with thoughts of Bragolaur running through her head, appalled perhaps even afraid. What she discovered instead was a head to toe sensation of pleasure, that he would devote that much time in finding her, discovering her, and she could not help shivering in his arms as his face was far too close to hers. And that shiver was _far_ too telling for Legolas as well—pulling back would be a good idea, but he struggled with it. He was struggling with desire for her. _Keep yourself in check, Legolas!_

"I think," she said, a bit breathlessly as she tried to focus, "that if I tell you, you must tell me if it is true."

His brain trying to move away from the moment of desire he had felt coursing through him, he thought about her words. What if Gimli had told her a story he neither wanted to confirm or deny? The odds were that Gimli had simply made something up…and really, what did he have to hide from her?

"Tell me," he said, "and I give you my word that I will tell you if it is truth."

She smiled, sitting up straighter in his arms. "Did you _really_ walk into the apothecary's sign because you were so distracted by me?"

A flush came over his cheeks and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. That of course was confirmation enough, but he had made a promise to her and if she knew nothing else about him, he kept his promises. "To my _overwhelming_ shame, it is true." She laughed and he continued, unable to help himself. "It was that first morning I had fallen asleep in your home, in the chair, and I could not get you out of my mind. We left the guesthouse; we were walking through the City, headed for muffins, and Gimli joined us. You were walking a little ahead of us, and I…I _looked up_ and was _blindsided by you_ …" She heard him sigh and she blushed, but he continued, honest to a fault. "I can still see it, in my head: the sun was shining down through your golden hair, making it shimmer in the morning light, your skirt was blowing in the spring breeze, and you were like a _sunflower_ …like a sunflower with its green stem, dancing with the wind and I…" He smiled sheepishly, and could not meet her eyes, "I was so transfixed by your beauty in that moment that I walked headlong into the sign."

"You…are far too honest."

He shook his head, laughing softly at himself. "I did not mean to embarrass you; you asked the question. I…am unable to hold back my words around you…even if I should."

"Even _if_ you should?"

"Even _when_ I should," he said honestly and she blushed again.

Thankfully, they were distracted by Gimli humming a bit of music as Lómë had slowed a little to allow Firgenwine to walk nearly beside him. She was chewing a mouthful of grass as Gimli was not paying her any attention, and Enguina turned her head to look at him.

"Gimli, what is it you are singing?"

He looked suddenly at her and laughed aloud. "I didn't even know I was singing out loud! It's a bit of a traveling song I heard a few years back. Thought it was quite funny."

She smiled. "It is not the one about the drunken stupor, is it?"

"Or that _evil_ one?" Legolas said darkly. Enguina raised her eyebrows.

"That—?"

"Never you mind," he said, staring at Gimli. The dwarf _hmpfed_.

"I'm insulted! Whaddya think, I only know two songs?!" he laughed then. "A person can't sing the same two songs all the time, you know!"

"Then _out_ with it!" Legolas laughed as Gimli cleared his throat. "We could use a good traveling song; particularly one of yours, Gimli."

 _There once was a lad…_

 _Oh, he was quite a cad!_

 _And he had_

 _A soft dimple in his chin,_

 _And when he was bad,_

 _All the lasses were sad_

 _Because they liked to look upon him!_

 _For though he was cute_

 _He gave ladies the boot,_

 _And would loot_

 _All the town's treasuries_

 _A fine wandering suit_

 _Made him look like a fruit_

 _A silly lad in all of his fineries!_

 _But alas! One day_

 _This wandering jay,_

 _This fool would pay_

 _For all his dastardly deeds_

 _For on his way_

 _To the church, said they_

 _The chief's men caught him near the reeds_

 _The ladies all cried_

 _Oh my, how they sighed_

 _To see the ride_

 _Of the foolish thief_

 _For he finally died_

 _At the noose beside_

 _The treasury owned by the chief!_

Legolas and Enguina both burst out laughing, as did Gimli. The two of them could barely control themselves for a full minute, as they had to keep it to themselves the entire time that they had listened, for fear that they would miss something in the weaving of the madly amusing tale.

" _That_ was the perfect song," called Aragorn from up in front of them. "Excellent work, Gimli!"

"I think I may have heard that one before," said Legolas, still laughing. "It is still hilarious, my friend."

"You know, we don't do enough singing as a group," the dwarf said firmly. "We all have great voices, and yet we don't sing together! We should." His eyes widened as he turned towards Legolas and Enguina. "I've got it! We should all sing together at your wedding! Perhaps we can sing about the _Green Dragon_ , or—"

" _No_ ," both Legolas and Enguina answered seriously, holding up their hands, and Gimli laughed.

"It was only a thought! Just a thought!"

"Sing something else, Gimli," said Arwen, turning to look at him in her saddle. "Please?"

"Why don't one of you—"

"Gimli, please?" asked Enguina, and he sighed, thinking. "If you do not mind, of course."

"Anything for a request," he said, his ears turning red. He was not certain he would remember all of the words for the song he was about to sing, but he figured he would give it a go anyway.

 _Over field and fen,_

 _over meadows far and wide_

 _We march from long and tiring journeys_

 _To Middle-Earth's other side_

 _This path we walk is timeless_

 _It has been here long before_

 _We will walk and not be faint of heart_

 _If we believe our hearts will soar_

 _Why is it that we walk this road?_

 _Why do we toil so hard?_

 _For love, and joy, and hope_

 _And to heal that which is marr'd_

 _We give our lives for this dream_

 _For each heart that walks this way_

 _Bound together are we all to go_

 _And to leave this eternal fray_

 _And still our heart's cry is to journey on_

 _Further and further towards our lore_

 _Until our eyes see and ears hear_

 _That glistening, snow-white sandy shore_

 _To the Sea! To the Havens!_

 _This is our soul's very cry_

 _We will walk this path together_

 _In unity those souls will sigh_

 _Finally we shall be at peace_

 _On a ship sailing to the west_

 _For in a land of sparkling green_

 _Our hearts will be ever blessed_

There was silence all around; even the horses had stopped their speaking. It was as though Gimli's song had either lulled them all to sleep or had silenced them in anger. He was not sure which, and so, being the self-conscious dwarf that he was, he thought he should ask. He began to wonder if he was stupid to have sung an Elvish song to them; how silly! Had he offended them all by singing about the Havens? Was it completely disrespectful and bold for him to be singing this song; was he in over his head?

"I'm sorry if you didn't like it," Gimli muttered self-consciously.

"It was beautiful, Gimli," replied Enguina, and as he glanced her way, he caught her staring at him. He blushed quickly, and she shook her head. "Do not be embarrassed."

"None of us were expecting you to sing something so…something Elvish," Legolas said, his mouth half-open in disbelief. "Wherever did you hear that before that you were able to repeat it?"

Gimli's ears turned even redder, stunned that they actually liked it and were not angry with him. "Uh…the Hall of Fire—"

"Imladris," Aragorn said softly, and he squeezed Arwen's hand gently as she lifted her other hand to wipe tears from her face.

"At the time of the Council?"

"Yes," Gimli agreed. "It was such a beautiful song! I only heard it once, but it was the first time I'd ever heard anything sung by the elves, so I made sure I memorized it. Bilbo helped me a bit! I suppose it's a bit bold of me to sing a song of the Havens when I know nothing about them."

"Gimli, it was wonderful," Enguina said. "I have been to the Havens and heard the gulls crying and the sea crashing."

Gimli looked even more embarrassed when he realized Arwen had been crying. "I'm sorry, Arwen."

She shook her head. "It has been…many years since I have heard that song; not since I last stood in my Father's house, when the last of the elves set forth to the Havens and we set out for Minas Tirith. They would sing it often. It is not your fault."

"Perhaps someone would like to sing another?" Enguina asked softly, looking at Legolas, but he shook his head.

"Another time perhaps. Gimli's is in my heart right now," he said with a smile, leaning forward to kiss her temple. Lómë and Firgenwine easily caught up with Brego and Asfaloth, and now all four of them were walking in a line.

"I think I do agree with Gimli," Arwen said softly. "I do not think there is enough singing in Minas Tirith."

"Come now," Enguina laughed from beside her, "do not tell me that Aragorn never sings you to sleep? You _must_ be sung to sleep every night by that sweet baritone riding beside you."

"I wonder if she is saying you have a sweet voice or if _you_ are sweet," teased Arwen, looking over into Aragorn's face.

"Both!" Enguina interjected with a joyous laugh, and she leaned to look around Arwen as she saw Aragorn roll his eyes at her. "Arwen, your sweet baritone is rolling his eyes at me."

Arwen laughed. "Could you expect anything less?" she asked, studying Aragorn. "It _was_ a compliment, you know."

"I know, and it was very nice of her to say."

Legolas smiled, squeezing Enguina in his arms. "I have a solution to this 'lack of singing.' Why do we not all sing a hymn together? Something we all know and can sing together in chorus."

"That's a wonderful idea!" cried Gimli. "Who will start?"

"Arwen," Enguina said immediately. "Perfect pitch."

She blushed and Aragorn chuckled. "You cannot pretend that is not true."

"Let me think," she shushed him, and the four of them waited in anticipation. It brought more stress on her than she cared to admit, but her thoughts finally came to the first hymn of praise she ever learned. It was a hymn of joy she had sung many times, and she could only think that it would be hard to imagine that one of them might not know it. She took a breath and began the song, alone, and each of them joined into the melody; Enguina taking the soprano, Arwen switching to alto, Legolas to tenor, Aragorn to baritone, and Gimli to bass.

 _Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love_

 _Hearts unfold like flow'rs before Thee, opening to the sun above_

 _Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; Drive the dark of doubt away_

 _Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!_

 _All Thy works with joy surround Thee, earth and heav'n reflect Thy rays_

 _Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of Unbroken Praise!_

 _Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea_

 _Chanting bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee!_

 _Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blest_

 _Well-spring of the joy of living, Ocean-depth of happy rest!_

 _Thou our Father, blessed Brother, all who live in love are Thine_

 _Teach us how to love each other, lift us to Thy joy divine!_

 _Peoples join the mighty chorus which the morning stars began_

 _Father love is reigning o'er us, brother love binds man to man_

 _Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife_

 _Joyful music leads us sunward in the triumph song of life!_

Nothing could be more beautiful than their five clear voices ringing out together on that morning as they rode. Each one of them sang with the full knowledge of Grace, every word coming from their lips direct from their hearts as each one thought about the words they were singing. It was not simply a song; it was _praise_. Their hearts soared with worship, and when it was all done, there was silence as each thought about what they had just experienced.

" _Amen_ …" whispered Aragorn, and Arwen squeezed his hand.

"How absolutely _beautiful_ we sound together," said Enguina softly, letting her head fall back against Legolas' chest again. "And how amazing are the words to that song? _Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of Unbroken Praise_? How beautiful!"

"Amazing what the hearts of people can put into words," Legolas agreed, his voice as soft as hers, barely wanting to break the silence between them all. " _Ocean-depth of happy rest_? _Driving away the darkness of doubt_?"

"And we are certainly _victors in the midst of strife_ …" added Arwen with a smile.

"And we are _singing_!" laughed Gimli, and a resounding _Amen_ came from each one in the party. And they continued to travel onward, delighting in the presence of one another, and sharing their return journey in happiness and joy, and hoping they would continue to find it through song.


	28. Chapter 28

It had been a _very_ long day of traveling. Hindsight was always very clear to Aragorn; it was one of those things that had always frustrated him about making choices for a group of people. Sometimes those decisions hurt others if you were not careful…this was one of those times. He had been removing Brego's tack when he realized that there was no way in all the realms of Middle-Earth he was going to lift the saddle. His shoulder was roaring; even curling his fingers to make a fist pained him. This caused him to pause and observe the others around him, and to come to the final conclusion that they had traveled way too far today…and they had not been ready for it.

There was a light rain falling at the moment. Enguina and Legolas had dismounted and stood beside Lómë, Legolas favoring his leg, Enguina working on straightening her back; she looked very uncomfortable. Gimli appeared a little tired, but otherwise all right, and Arwen…she met his eyes as he discovered her right beside him. He gave her a sheepish smile, noticing that the toe of her right boot was on the ground at the moment and not the rest of her foot.

"A bit far today, hmm?" he said and she shook her head.

"A bit I would say," she agreed, "but no one here is going to complain, if that is what you are implying. Everyone would like to be home at the moment."

"How is your—"

" _Please_ ," she muttered as she rolled her eyes and reached up to take Brego's saddle down, "I am perfectly well compared to you. If you want to ask someone how they are, ask Legolas or Enguina. They are bound to lie as well as you."

"Legolas shall lie better than Enguina," he said softly with a chuckle.

"How bad is it?" she asked, and he nodded slowly, refusing to answer the question. That, in itself, was the perfect answer. "You need to rest."

"We _all_ need to rest," he replied.

"I'll get a fire going!" called Gimli. "I know a few people who could use some food _and_ some of that most excellent tea you're both so good at making, lad."

"Let me help you, Gimli," added Arwen, "as soon as Brego and Aragorn are settled."

"I could settle myself," Aragorn protested mildly, but she knew it was for show. He was far more exhausted than her, and she was not about to let him do anything by himself. She set down Brego's saddle.

"I will help," offered Legolas, but she caught his arm as he moved towards the fire.

"No, you will go and _sit_ by the fire with Enguina. Perhaps gather some food for our evening meal." Enguina gave her a slow smile.

"I _might_ be too tired to eat."

Legolas laughed. "I will see to it, Arwen."

It took a few minutes, but everyone soon had their bed rolls about and the fire was roaring quickly. Arwen sat Aragorn down and, after putting the tea on to boil for everyone, began undoing the front of his tunic. He caught her hand and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Undressing me before dinner?" he said so quietly she was surely the only one to hear him.

She shook her head, and Aragorn could tell she was in _no mood_ to be teased; she did not even blush. "Do not be so foolish," she told him. "This wound needs _serious_ tending, and I would not have the energy myself."

"I do not think I have been riding for so many days for so long," Enguina said, sitting closely beside Legolas, her eyes half-lidded. _And been so uncomfortable while doing it._

"You can rest your head upon my shoulder, you know," Legolas told her with a smile.

"I know, but if I do that I will never get the tea I need, as I will be asleep."

"Enguina, how are your hands?" asked Aragorn, and Enguina lifted her eyes at just the wrong time to see Arwen removing the bandage. Her stomach turned and she looked away into the fire.

"Not terrible," she said hurriedly, trying not to think about the wound and listening to Arwen hiss softly in disgust. "Legolas held the reins most of the day. My side is tender."

"I will be honest and say that my leg, my hip, my side are sore," Legolas said aloud, slipping an arm around her as he watched Arwen begin to clean Aragorn's wound. It was not a pretty sight, and the man's fingers began to dig deeply into the dirt nearby.

"Honesty is the best way to go about," Aragorn said softly, and then clenched his teeth.

"How would _you_ know?" Arwen asked, a bit annoyed. "This wound has been bleeding for some time. Why did you not tell me? You need to take better care of yourself."

"Why should he when he has you?" teased Legolas, and Arwen gave him a look full of fire.

"Do _not_ give him any ideas," she said firmly, and Aragorn smothered his groan of pain. His shoulder was on _fire_.

"Legolas," he said, his voice still quiet, "do not irritate my wife while she is working. This is painful enough." And even though she was angry with him, her hands gentled on the wound. "I was so eager to be on the road home; you all must forgive me for prolonging your hurts today."

"We want to be home as well," Enguina murmured, and she did lay her head upon Legolas's shoulder. He slipped an arm around her and rested his head in her hair.

"You really are exhausted, Guin," he said gently. Aside from a sigh, she did not reply, and Gimli sighed loudly as well as he watched the water boil.

"I think I'm too tired to eat, and that's a first. There's always breakfast." He yawned widely and stretched. "You know, I don't even think my hand is bothering me enough to stay awake for tea."

"I will take care of it, Gimli," Arwen said. "Go ahead and rest."

"I'm grateful," he replied, and within moments was curling up on his bedroll…and moments after that, was asleep and snoring. Aragorn turned his head, trying not to show how much pain he was really in, and smiled to himself upon realizing that Legolas and Enguina were asleep where they sat.

"I wore everyone out," he realized.

"Including yourself," Arwen agreed, shaking her head. "I do not like the look of this, Aragorn." He could hear the worry in her voice, and he turned back to look at it.

"Arwen, a wound always looks worse before it goes better," he told her, glancing up into her face. "It will be fine; you are doing fine."

"You always say that," she muttered. "You would say that if your arm were about to fall off."

"I am sorry I teased you, and I am sorry I did not stop earlier. We will do better tomorrow; not so far, not so long."

"Can I hold you to that? Enguina is bound to be in pain, and Legolas is not yet well. We need to rest more often, and _you_ cannot spare your strength to heal them now, not as wounded as you are."

He was silent for a moment, and Arwen gently began to rewrap the wound. He reached up and held her wrist in his hand. "How is your knee?"

"Fine."

She tied off the bandage and slipped out of his grasp, headed for the tea. It was plenty warm enough, and she poured mugs of it for each one of them. Holding two of them in her hand, she crouched down beside Legolas. Aragorn watched her, _hating_ the fact that she was upset with him. He _hated_ when she was angry; it felt _off_ in his head, in his heart.

"Sleep-heads," she said softly and laid a hand on Legolas's arm. He blinked and looked at her, responding to the touch, not her voice.

"Oh, I must have fallen asleep," he said. "Forgive me, were you saying something to us?"

"Your tea," she said. "Drink it, and then you and Enguina can lie down on your mats."

"Guin," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Mmm…"

"Arwen is trying to give you tea."

"Thank Ilúvatar," she whispered, and lifted her head to take it from Arwen's hand just as Legolas did as well.

"Are you really that uncomfortable?" she asked her, and Enguina looked a bit guilty.

"It _could_ be worse." Taking the mug, she began to drink, cringing at the taste. Legolas did not even cringe, but downed the tea fairly quickly.

"There is more," Arwen said to him. "May I get you a bit more?"

"Save some for Aragorn," he replied but she smiled wryly.

"I promise there will be enough." She took his mug and refilled it; when she returned to give it to him, she took Enguina's and did the same. Enguina shook her head when Arwen held it out to her, but she insisted she take it. "If you wake in the middle of the night, you will want it," she said reasonably, and Enguina rolled her eyes and took it.

"Yes, mother."

"I will be what I must be when I need to be it," Arwen said waspishly, and she straightened. Enguina looked a bit apologetic, but Arwen continued. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Legolas said honestly. "I think I will eat breakfast when I wake."

"You have definitely spent too much time with the dwarf," Arwen sighed, and she looked to Enguina.

"I agree with Legolas," she replied. "I just want to rest."

"Have a good sleep," Arwen said gently, and she reached out and ran her fingers through Enguina's hair. The elf closed her eyes, and Arwen stepped away. "Both of you." By the time she turned back from the fire with two more mugs of tea, having drank one herself already, the two of them were lying on their mats, close together with Enguina facing him. Legolas was propped up on one elbow, stroking her face and watching her breathe. Arwen said nothing, but continued on to Aragorn, who met her eyes a bit sadly.

She tilted her head, surprised. "What is it?"

"I was thinking," he said with a small sigh, "how much apologizing would I have to do to beg you to run your fingers through my hair like that? But then I thought that I probably could not do enough."

Arwen looked at him a moment, placed a mug of tea in his hand, and immediately ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes the second time, and then found himself leaning his head against her stomach, relishing the feel of her hand in his hair. It still amazed him how so small a touch could relieve his pain better than the tea he was about to drink; she was his sanctuary, as he was hers.

"Forgive me…for being so… _boorish_."

He could almost feel her smile. "You do not need to beg me to touch you," she said, continuing to comb his hair with her fingers. _I love you, Aragorn_ ; it was loud in his head. "I hate to see you in pain, injured. It hurts me, just as much as it does you to see me. I wish you would be more honest about your injuries; you do not have to be tough for anyone here. There is no urgency in getting home…aside from the wedding, and those involved are in as much pain as you."

Her other hand worked its way slowly down to his spine and rubbed down from the back of his neck, straight down. He almost sighed with relief. "How did you know?" he asked softly.

"I know what part of you is connected to what part," she said wryly. "Sometimes, I know your body better than my own."

He laughed softly, his arm moving slightly so he could rest his hand on her right calf, near her injured knee. "As I know yours, beloved. May I rub this tonight?"

She laughed softly and shook her head. "No," she said. "You need to rest more than I need to feel your fingers. I will rub it myself when you are resting."

He did not argue, as she sounded fairly firm about that. There was silence between them for a little while as she continued rubbing his spine. "You have not been dreaming at all since we left Minas Tirith," he said, taking up a new subject.

"No," she agreed. "Enguina will be having all the dreams now. Legolas is going to try and stay awake all night and watch her…I know it."

"I would, if it were you."

Both hands were on his back now, and he almost moaned with the relief it gave his shoulder. "You _have_ ," she said, her voice softer now. "You have stayed awake with me all night, and kept the darkness away. I know you have." He was silent; he did not want to tell her just how many nights he _had_ done exactly what she was saying, where he would rouse her just enough to wake her from the nightmare, but not enough to wake her fully…at least he did not think he ever woke her fully. Clearly, there had been times he had been found out. "You need to drink."

To get himself to pull back from her in order to get the cup to his lips was a trial; the last thing in the world that he wanted was to remove his head from her belly or stop the feel of her hands on his back. But he did, because he wanted both of them to sleep as they needed it; he was relieved when her hands stayed upon his spine as she watched him drink. He lowered the mug and nodded to the other beside him.

"Are you not going to drink yours?"

She shook her head. "It was another for you."

"No, you need it."

"I _am_ fine. Drink it."

"Arwen—"

" _Drink_ it or I will stop," she threatened softly and drew her hands away from his back. The mug was gone in a few seconds. She took it from him and set it down before taking his hands in hers and helping him to his feet. "It is time to lie down…and see what I can do about this back of yours." Leading him to their mats, she helped him to lie down where she removed his boots and gently rolled him onto his stomach as she sat down beside him.

Her hands were like magic on his back, so soothing, and they turned every sore muscle in his back and shoulder to mush. He lay there like a dead body, in a state of semi-unconsciousness, feeling her hands, her presence, and wondering how in the world he had been so blessed. "Your hands are like _heaven_ ," he sighed.

Her hands slowed, and one moved to his arm and began soothing the muscles there as well that ached and pained him. "Aragorn…" she said softly, and he made a noise in his throat to let her know he was listening, "will you…will you _promise_ me that we are not to go through this tomorrow night? And the next night after that, and every other night on the way home? Will you promise me?"

She was practically begging him; how could he refuse? "I will promise," he said, and he meant it, as serious as she was. "As much as I so love it when you are the healer, I will not ride until I am about to drop tomorrow…and I will be solicitous of the others."

"I will worry enough for both of us," she replied, "and you need to rest now."

"Come here," he whispered. "Lie beside me."

"When I have finished with your arm," she replied, "then I will sleep."

"You are just as exhausted as the rest of us. Come," he repeated.

"Aragorn…when I have finished," she said a bit more firmly. "Close your eyes, now."

He obeyed her, and enjoyed the feel of her hands. Minutes or hours later, he woke to her body pressed up against his back, her arm wrapped around him, hugging him close to her. He did not even have long enough to smile before he was asleep again.

* * *

 _His hand was in her hair, his forehead closely pressed to hers, and she felt the comfort, the love pouring out of him into her. She loved him, so much it hurt. She was lying beside him in the grass near the Anduin; he was propped up on an elbow beside her, leaning in close. It was spring, and the warmth of the sun felt good on her toes as she lay there. His eyes were shining, the bright blue distracting her from everything else that was wonderful about the day—she had to focus on him. The way his flaxen hair hung down about his shoulders, how his delicate pointed ears made her smile, the way his fingers touched her face from cheek to chin, the way he stared at her—as though she was the only thing in his world; these were the things that distracted her._

 _"Beautiful…" he whispered, and she blushed._

 _"What?" she asked him._

 _"You," was his reply. "I have never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life than you…in this moment." His thumb traced along her lower lip, his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face upwards toward his mouth._

 _She let him kiss her; he did not ask permission. There was no need anymore, for him, every time she tilted her head was a cause for a kiss. He had told her once he could hardly help himself, and that she could hardly blame him when he was so in love. She felt his hand slip beneath her neck bringing her that much closer to him, holding her gently to his mouth._

 _The kiss grew hard, more intense, and the hold on the back of her neck became strong and demanding. She was struggling to breathe, and she tried to move back or move away, but she could do neither. And she found that she could not move her hands…they were knifed to the ground above her head._

 _Suddenly she was thrashing against him, in pain as she tried to free herself. The hand that was not beneath her neck was grasping at her breasts as she fought left and right, crying out against the mouth that held hers so tight. His hand dropped lower, lower, until she felt him pressed hard against her and she writhed desperately—_

 _"Enguina!" She heard him screaming, tied to the tree. "Enguina! Guin! Guin!"_

" _Guin_ ," Legolas stressed, shaking her. "Guin, stop, wake up!"

She came to, breaking into an immediate sweat as she felt his hands on her arms. She reacted, even after hearing him say her name, and she struggled against him, wrestling to be free, pushing against his chest and scratching at his tunic. She could hear him speaking, but in her head she could still hear Bragolaur's vicious words to her and feel him grabbing her, phantom pain stabbing through her hands as she tried to pull away.

"No, no!" she whimpered. _This is not Bragolaur; it is Legolas!_ _ **Legolas!**_ But no matter what her heart tried to communicate to her head, the dream would not release her. She kept yanking, yanking to get away, still tearing at his chest, fighting in fright as she tried to be free.

Instead of holding her arms then, he brought her right to him, too close to cause much damage, and he could stop her thrashing when she was this close. Her every muscle was tense against him as he held tight, and after taking several hits to his broken ribs and listening to her whimper as she tried to escape him, he wondered when how long it would take for her to realize that she was all right. Grimacing, he continued to hold, mumbling her name, trying to fight back the chaos in her mind. She finally woke, gasping and choking on tears.

Enguina could smell him; being this close to his neck was what finally brought her out of the dream. Immediately, her body began to tremble and she began crying, unable to stop it. Her head spun, but she shoved her face into his skin and forced herself to focus on his scent. She _barely_ kept the food she had eaten down as her stomach heaved, and she struggled to breathe correctly.

"Shh…shh…" he whispered, and suddenly his hand was against her head and she was flinching against him…and then she remembered again who it was that was holding her. "It is all right…I am here, _moina_ …I am here." She tried to relax her muscles, but it seemed she had to do each one individually and she did not have enough strength for that. Trembling against him, she felt weaker than she had in days. He smoothed her hair with his hand, his fingers tangled in it as they had in her dream. _It was a dream; it is not real…only a dream…just a dream…_

This was the fourth nightmare tonight, and Legolas was just about exhausted and at the end of his rope. He had been awake, staring at her, knowing by the way her face tightened on the others that they were happening. He was able to wake her; she was still crying and trembling when she woke, but at least she was not suffering within the dream. But he had been so exhausted that he could not stay awake, and he had fallen asleep…and he cursed himself for being unable to do so. This one of course had been worse, and she was trembling harder than she had for the last two.

" _Legolas…Legolas…_ " she wept, her hands pulled tightly into her chest as she huddled in his arms, trying to protect herself against the darkness. He felt her flinch again as his fingers stroked the edge of her ear, but he was not about to let her go. She knew it was him; she simply could not help the way her body chose to react.

"He cannot hurt you," he told her gently. "You are safe…safe…it was just a dream. Only a dream…"

"I am so _tired_ …" she cried. "I am so tired of dreaming; I want him out of my head! I want him out!" Her tears increased as she whimpered, " _How can I get him out?_ "

"Shhh…" he said, his arm tightening. Her stomach spun again and she swallowed hard; she did not know how long she could prevent herself from heaving. She tried to breathe and focus again on his scent, but her breaths were gasping, she could not even slow them. The nightmare came back to her, suddenly, forcefully, and she tried to push away, bringing her wrapped hands flat against his chest.

"Let…let _go_ ," she whimpered; there was no stopping the sickness washing over her. If he did not let her go now… _right_ now…

The last thing in the world he wanted was to let her go, but as he watched her swallow twice, three times consecutively, he knew what would happen if he did not. He sat up with her in his arms, and then turned her away from their mats, keeping her in his arms now and taking her hair in his hand. He had not let go, and she hated him seeing her so ill, unable to control her body, but she did not have a choice as he was clearly not about to release her.

Her gasping became heavy, forced breaths and then she _was_ retching and coughing; three, perhaps four times her stomach heaved, and she leaned against his arms, _exhausted_ when it was through. She was sweaty and chilled, her skin clammy, her hands shaking against Legolas's arm as he held her still. She could hear his voice, telling her that she was all right…but she did not _feel_ all right. In fact, she felt worse than ever, exhausted, weak, phantom pain filling her, the nightmare just behind her eyes. She had never felt more despair.

" _I…I want…_ " she began, her mouth dry as sand, but she forced the words out choking on them, " _I just want to die…_ " She _hated_ herself for saying them aloud, but she could not stop them now, and she began sobbing, feeling more wretched than she had in days.

Legolas's heart broke as his arm tightened its hold, moving her slowly back to their mats and reaching out to get her a drink of water. He had known, or at least he _should_ have known, that this would get worse before it would get better, that the torment she had suffered would not go away with one conversation, one dream, one assurance of his everlasting love for her. He made her drink the water, practically forced it on her, and then she curled her head back into his neck, seeking the security of his arms again, her tears thick and heavy.

"Do not say things like that," he whispered, a lump in his throat. "Ilúvatar protect you from wishing it. I cannot—"

"What is there left of me to save? What part of me is worth saving, Legolas? I have nothing to give you!" She was sobbing now, and his heart was throbbing with her pain.

"Guin, _please_ …"

" _It hurts!_ " she choked out. " _I do not want this pain anymore! I cannot survive it. Every night…I cannot even close my eyes he is all I see, what I feel…I just want to sleep…hear the quiet of it…I cannot even feel that_ …" He rocked her in his arms, and she dug her fingers into her hands in fists; the physical pain was better than the emotional one.

"What can I do?" he asked her. "Please, Guin…you are in so much _pain_." He could feel it in his chest; it was eating him alive. Was this what Aragorn meant? He had never known suffering like this. Yes, he had lost his mother, but this…this was torment, agony, grief…this was the woman he _loved_.

It was as if she had not even heard him. "I dreamed of _you_ …" she groaned. " _I dreamed of us at the Anduin…there was nothing but our love, you touching my face…kissing me…and then it became him!_ " She cried out. " _The dream became full of darkness and I was in pain and you were screaming, and he was right! God, he was right…he said he would say with me, that he would haunt my steps and he was right, he has always been right!_ "

She could not fight him in her sleep. She could fight the memories while she was awake, but while asleep…there was nothing she could do. And he, what could _he_ do? Was there an answer for so much pain? Fire burned his chest—of course there was an answer…but he could not face that. How could he lose her? She would have to go…how, otherwise, could she find an end to this pain, could she find rest? If he could not help her, was this the only choice? Yet how could he ever find the will to let her go?

He held her, tears on his own face. "He was wrong…Bragolaur was wrong," he whispered, trying to talk over the lump in his throat. "He has always been wrong…Ilúvatar will protect you…let him be your shield, hold him as a light against the darkness."

"He is not _there_ , Legolas…when I need him, he is not _there_ …" she wept, her despair smothering her like a dark ocean. "I have _begged_ him to take this away, and it…it is worse than _ever…and what can I do? I am drowning…drowning in this darkness!_ "

He did the only thing he could do…hold her. There was no way any words he had to say would bring her peace, not tonight…not right now. His heart was so heavy for her, for them both, weighted down with the agony of her despair. _Where_ _ **are**_ _you? Why have you_ _ **done**_ _this? How can she take this sorrow, the weight of this pain? Please…do not let her leave me! I will do anything…please, do not make me let her go! Be with me…_ _ **be with me**_ _!_

He sang softly then, tears on his face as he held her, rocking her, long into the night. The words were as much for her as they were for him.

 _Abide with me, fast falls the eventide._

 _The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide._

 _When other helpers fail and comforts flee_

 _Help of the helpless, O! abide with me._

 _I need Thy presence ev'ry waking hour._

 _What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?_

 _Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?_

 _O Thou who changest not, abide with me!_

* * *

When Aragorn woke, he was alone on his mat; his arm was aching, but he ignored it. He should not have been worried about Arwen but he was, and he sat up slowly, looking about the camp. Gimli was gone again; where the dwarf was, he had no idea, perhaps that was where the horses had disappeared to as—and then Legolas blocked his view.

"Aragorn, may I…can we speak alone?"

To have such a request at this hour of the morning? What hour of the morning was it, anyway? He could not even see the sun, he had not had time to gather his bearings, and he blinked at the elf, wondering what in the world could have put him so ill-at-ease. "Of course, Legolas," he replied, clearing his throat and glancing about for water. "I need—"

Legolas set out a hand with a waterskin in it and Aragorn took it gratefully. After drinking, he set it down and rose to his feet, his first instinct to look for Arwen. Thankfully, he did not need to look very far. She sat with her back to him, Enguina slightly before her; a blanket around her shoulders, her golden hair cascading in waves down her back as Arwen's deft fingers plaited a braid into it. She had her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her chin resting on her arms, eyes closed. Arwen was humming something softly that Aragorn did not recognize, but it was soothing. It was clear to him, in the set of Enguina's shoulders, in the walk of Legolas, that it had not been a good night. And he had slept through all of it.

Legolas stopped not too far from the camp, in the woods, leaning heavily against a tree. Aragorn came to a halt beside him, and he had to take a seat in the grass; his head swimming. He needed some of that tea soon, and he was ashamed to admit that he hoped Legolas did not want to talk long. He shoved it back and focused. This was important…it had to be, otherwise Legolas would never have brought him out here.

" _I am so distraught_ ," he whispered, and there was more pain in those four words then Aragorn had ever heard in the elf's voice before.

"Sit," Aragorn said gently, "and tell me what is troubling you."

Legolas nearly fell down beside him, so tired, his burden so heavy. "I have been awake all night with Guin," he continued, his voice soft but full of sorrow. "She woke four times from nightmares, the last most awful. She is haunted by him, pain filling her, causing her to be ill and weak…exhaustion does not even cover how she is feeling this morning. She is…so full of despair." He lowered his head into his hands. " _I cannot reach her._

"I try to tell her that Ilúvatar will protect her from her dreams, but he has not. She cries out to him, but he is silent. I try to hold her, and she shies away from me, afraid that I am _him_." He choked on the words. "I try to tell her than nothing matters but our love, that we are meant for each other, that I love her no matter what…but she cannot believe, or she cannot think of it. She _feels_ him; he is _strangling_ the life from her. Last night she…she…she wished she was dead."

Aragorn placed his hand on the elf's shoulder, but he continued. "She is in agonizing pain, and I can do _nothing_ to take it away. No amount of words, no amount of holding, no amount of tenderness can stop it…her pain is killing me, torturing me, eating me _alive_." He looked up into his friend's face, his eyes full of tears. "Is _this_ what you meant, Aragorn? Is _this_ what you meant when you said I do not know what suffering really is? Because you are right…I can hardly bear it. I feel as though I cannot breathe, that I want to _murder_ what is hurting her, but he is already dead! She suffers with something I cannot touch, I cannot heal…I cannot even reach her through the darkness. She could barely look at me this morning, could barely find the strength to lift her head from my chest. You were right, Aragorn…I did not wish to know this kind of suffering; I was not made to bear her pain. I can feel her in my head, _screaming_ …" He broke down, crying softly, and Aragorn sat beside him quietly.

" _Why?_ " he asked brokenly, covering his face again. "Why has Ilúvatar done this to her? She does not deserve this suffering, to have been tormented by such an evil man, to have been hurt as she has been and now to be haunted by the memory of him, the memory of his hands on her, his body pressed to her. Why did Ilúvatar let it happen? Why can he not let me heal her? Why can she not take refuge in me and find peace from these sorrow? Instead, there is only more despair; all that is _left_ is despair. How…how can I reach her? How can I fight the sorrow?"

"You cannot," Aragorn whispered. "You cannot fight it, Legolas. It is not a demon, not a _thing_ that can be slain. It is an _idea_ , a memory that haunts her, that drives her to the darkness, that smothers her, chokes her. I _know_ what you are trying to fight…but you have to understand you cannot. You can no more reach into Enguina's mind and heart and take away all of her fear and the memories then I could Arwen's." His hand tightened on Legolas's shoulder. "You can only take them as they come, and bring comfort when they do."

"There is no way—?"

"There is no way to fight her dreams, to fight back her sorrow. _She_ must do that. When we…" he paused, and then pushed onward. "When we lost our son, Arwen's nightmares were terrible at first; she would dream of him every night. She would pace the floors, unable to close her eyes, weeping, screaming, even wounding herself trying to find a way to get rid of the pain, pulling her hair in a fit of agony. There is nothing worse, as you well know, Legolas, than standing by and watching someone you love fight pain alone. When she could find no sleep, I would help her rest through herbs to _make_ her sleep, just so she could get a few hours of rest.

"But…over time," he said, his voice tight, "the dreams lessened; the grief is no less, and it is sudden and consuming at times. I know, I feel it in her and I feel it, too…but hers is so much deeper than mine. She was connected to the child in ways I cannot understand…I never will. I cannot take her pain, I cannot fight it…but I can give her whatever comfort Ilúvatar has given me. I can bless her with my love, reassure her each time her heart tries to fail."

The elf met his eyes and Aragorn continued. "This is what you can do for Enguina, Legolas. She needs time; she needs _grace_. She has to fight the dreams on her own; there, you cannot help her. But when they do come, when they find her, you can be there. With time, the dreams will begin to fade, as will the hurt. She does not feel that yet, she cannot…not with the pain so fresh, so new."

"But…she has been fighting this pain since before…since Lothlórien, and she did not beat it."

"No," he agreed gently, "she did not…but she never had a reason to fight him until you. Legolas, Enguina loves you, and she knows you love her. She has to begin realizing that she is no longer alone in her pain; _you_ are with her. _You_ will become her rock. Ilúvatar has given her you to hold the dreams at bay."

"Aragorn, I know the pain that Enguina is feeling is a bit different from what Arwen is feeling, but let me ask this: if Arwen had not given up her immortality to be with you…would this pain, the pain of losing her babe…would it have driven her to Valinor? Would she be there now, if not for you?"

Aragorn was quiet for a moment, thinking about Legolas's words. "I honestly do not know Legolas, but I think perhaps not. Arwen has always had a certain strength in her. There are many elves who have been through trials and pain who have found a strength within them to stay here. Look at yourself, your father…yet you still remain in Middle-Earth."

"We have something to stay for," he added softly.

"Yes, Enguina does as well now. She must fight her dreams, her despair, and choose you."

There was pain in his face and his shoulders sank. "What if she cannot? What if my only choice is to allow her freedom, and she chooses Valinor? What if it is the only place she can truly find peace if I cannot bring it to her here, help her find it?" He lifted his head. "I am _so_ in love with her, Aragorn; with all I am, my whole being cries out to her. Alas, now I can see what would have been your doom if you had let Arwen journey to the Havens where you could never go. Alas, it is evil indeed, that I should have to live without the other half of my heart, my soul!"

"Legolas, it is still so soon after the trauma," he said trying to encourage him. "Do not be so quick to think the worst, you, who are usually so positive." He smiled. " _Chirpy_ …as Enguina would say." This, sadly, did not bring a smile to Legolas, so Aragorn continued. "She _needs_ time. Stay at her side, encourage her…take as much of her pain away as you can, support her in every way possible."

"Do you…do you think she will stay?" he whispered, unsure he wanted to hear the answer, but it was out of his mouth before he could take it back.

"I cannot possibly—"

"What do you _think_?"

Aragorn was looking at him, and the elf turned his eyes back to the man. He sighed. "I _think_ that Enguina will choose you. She will realize that seeking Valinor when she could have you is utter nonsense." He closed his eyes. "I know nothing of your Heaven, Legolas, aside from the tales I learned in your father's and Arwen's father's halls…but if she chose _me_ , who is _nothing_ over it, than that is saying something. Enguina will choose you…but you will have to wait for her." He looked over at him again. "You _can_ do that, can you not?"

There was pain in Legolas's face and he said, "I will wait forever if I must, but Aragorn…I am afraid of so many _other_ things."

"What? What else is troubling you?"

"When I wake Enguina from a dream, she fears me…she fears _him_ ; she sees _him_." He rubbed his face, and Aragorn could tell he was embarrassed. "Aragorn, I do not want her to see _him_ when I touch her…when we…when we…the first time we…"

He squeezed Legolas's shoulder. "Worry about one thing at a time, my very good friend. Right now, you must be there for Enguina; we will discuss the rest of it once we get closer to the wedding."

"Should I…should we postpone the wedding? To give her more time?"

"Do you feel that is the right thing to do?" he asked, and a storm cloud crossed Legolas's face.

"I do not _know_!" he snapped suddenly, his frustration exploding out. "If I knew I would not be asking! Why must you always ask the _hard_ questions?"

"Be glad it is only one," he told him. "There are more I could ask, but they will keep. What are friends for then to ask the hard questions? If I did not ask, who would?"

"What do _you_ think?"

He shook his head slowly. "You have less than a month before the wedding, Legolas. The date is set; keep it. If you find, as the wedding draws near, that you must wait, _then_ make that decision."

"But…is it not better to let everyone know who is traveling that there is a possibility—"

"Everyone is _already_ traveling," he reminded him. "Éomer, your father…they will be here more quickly than we would expect." Legolas paled at his words, and Aragorn shook his head, looking concerned. "Do not fret about it; if it happens that you _must_ postpone, if you and Enguina agree that you must, everyone will understand there has been serious chaos in the last few months, and we will all help you. You know we will."

"I…I _do_ know…" he said softly. "It just…with the wedding in a few weeks it seems as though…nothing will be normal, that it _cannot_ be normal. All of us are still wounded—"

"We will not be traveling until late today, if at all. You _and_ Enguina need time to rest." He frowned. "How long had Arwen been awake with you?"

"I do not know," he replied. "I did not notice her until she came to take Enguina from me, and Gimli had already left by that time. I think she was awake for some time; she has a sixth sense when it comes to Enguina."

"This I know," Aragorn agreed. "We should be heading back. Is there any other encouragement I can give you, Legolas?"

He shook his head, still worried as he rose to his feet a bit awkwardly, his ribs and leg paining him again. "I do have one more question, Aragorn."

"Ask it."

"Should I talk to Enguina about any of this? My heart tells me no, but I am so unsure of everything I am doing. I do not know how to help her, to reach her, to comfort her and it makes me so unsure. I have never been so… _lost_."

"Pray, Legolas," he said gently, "it is the only comfort in times like these." The elf nodded and looked down at Aragorn. "I am afraid that I cannot advise you to tell her or not to tell. Telling Enguina about your uncertainties could be good, but it may also hurt her. Only you can make that decision within the moment. It is necessary I think, at a time like this, even when you are hurting, to be strong for her."

"I will continue to pray. Are you getting up and joining me?"

Aragorn met his eyes and smiled. "I…was _intending_ to do so, but I think I might need to hold onto you. I am feeling a bit… _unwell_ this morning."

Legolas nodded. "For you to admit that means you are definitely unwell. Shall I call for tea?"

"Lots of it. We need to seriously look at these wounds today. You are not walking as well as I would like; how was Enguina?" The elf reached down and grasped him, dragging him carefully to his feet. Aragorn's pain was written all over his face, but he made no sound as the two of them began to walk towards camp.

"Her hands are bothering her; I can tell."

Aragorn frowned. "I knew I should have looked at them last night. Forgive me."

"We will make sure they are better today," he said, "and there is nothing to forgive. You are just as weary and injured as the rest of us." Aragorn nodded, but no matter Legolas's words, he still felt responsible for their wounds.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's Note: The song used in this chapter is "Hope Has A Place" by Enya with a few minor edits in lyrics by me. I did not write the rest of it, nor do I own it! And there is a reprise of "Need You Now" by Plumb, which I also do not own, nor did I write it! Enjoy!

* * *

Arwen combed her fingers through Enguina's hair, carefully separating the strands into groups so that she could braid them. Enguina sat just as she had when Aragorn and Legolas had left the camp, her chin on her folded arms and her arms on her knees. Her eyes were closed, yet she was not resting; every time she closed them, she saw a flash of a nightmare…though at the moment, she did not. Arwen was humming softly, and it was very soothing to her. She was able to slow down her breathing and calm herself from the chaos of the night. The morning light gave her peace as well, and she let out a long breath. But with the nightmare so close about her, she could not speak of it yet, and she knew very well that Arwen would hold her silence until she said something…she was so good at that. So patient…it drove her mad sometimes. But she would not say anything about the dreams.

"Do you remember, when we were younger? I used to love it when we would sit in the grass together in Lórien, and you would braid my hair. Do you remember?"

Arwen smiled to herself. "Yes, I remember."

"It always made me feel special…it still does; that you were, and are willing to take the time to make me feel that way. Thank you, for I never thought to thank you before."

She continued twisting the hair through her long fingers. "You are welcome, of course. I remember when we used to climb the trees; Grandfather would be so angry—"

"And Haldir," Enguina added. "Do you…do you think Erumar will come to the wedding?"

Arwen hugged her from behind, resting her head on Enguina's. "I do not think she would ever miss it if she could help it."

"I do not even know if she remains yet in Lórien. She may have already left," she said quietly. "The last time we saw one another…we did not say many kind things."

Arwen did not know what to say to that statement. There was no way of knowing where Erumar was, but Arwen could only hold out an irrational hope that she would be there. "Let us hope she will be there. Are you excited to finally meet Thranduil? He will certainly be there."

" _King_ Thranduil," she whispered. "Ilúvatar, that sounds so…surreal."

"Yes, and you shall be a Princess," Arwen reminded her. She felt Enguina stiffen in her arms. "Do not worry about it. It is nothing more than a title, at least for now."

"A title?" she echoed. "As _yours_ is only a title?"

"My case is…a bit different," she admitted. "But perhaps I am wrong and you will inherit a kingdom at some time if Thranduil chooses to—"

"Do not say _anything_ of the kind," Enguina said firmly. "I am not suited to be a Queen, nor am I worthy of the title. And I have… _terrible_ fears…of Thranduil."

"Fears?" Arwen asked concerned, finishing off the braid. "What of?"

"What if he…what if he does not like me at all?"

"What is there not to like?" Arwen scoffed. "He will love you upon the first meeting, I guarantee it." Enguina rolled her eyes.

"Please, you are making me ill."

Arwen laughed. "He is a pleasant elf, though he can be a bit intimidating as he is a bit taller and wider in the shoulder than Legolas. In years past, when I knew him, he had much humor. He has become a bit more serious in these more recent years…but he is _good_."

She smiled. "Is that where Legolas gets his goodness from?"

"And his temper."

Enguina nodded slowly. "He… _can_ have quite a temper, can he not? I hope he never becomes angry with me."

Arwen laughed softly. "Oh, Enguina, you _will_ make him angry, at some point…marriage is not all bliss. It is wonderful, but it is difficult, too. Sharing your life with someone, sometimes your every waking moment, can be stressful from time to time. You will not always be _happy_ , but you will always be in love."

Enguina rested her head back against Arwen's shoulder. "Is that all the matters in the world, Arwen? To be in love?"

"Yes," she said definitively. "A most _resounding_ yes."

"That is why you did what you have done with your life."

"Yes, and why you will marry Legolas and have at _least_ five children of your own— _love._ "

Enguina sighed. "Focus on one thing at a time, Arwen…we have to get home first. Then, I will think about this wedding." _And be as terrified as is necessary._ Her fingers tightened around each other and she felt them begin to twist—how many weeks had it been since she had done _that_?

"It is going to take time," Arwen said softly in her ear, and Enguina flinched, knowing she was talking about the nightmares. "Do not despair, Enguina. You will recover; you will heal. But you have to give yourself time."

 _I do not_ _ **have**_ _any time!_ "The wedding is—" her voice cut off and she shook her head, worry encasing her heart. "There is not a month before the wedding." Her lips began to tremble and she swallowed hard. "I _have_ no time, Arwen…" she whispered, her voice so full of hurt. "Every time I wake in a nightmare I hurt Legolas…I can hardly stand it. He loves me, yet I fill him with pain every time I shy away, I flinch. I _know_ it is not Bragolaur, but I _feel_ him.

" _And_ he went off with Aragorn," she groaned, "and I _know_ he is speaking of me. Legolas is talking to Aragorn of me and—"

"Of course he is," Arwen interrupted gently. "He is worried for you…more than you could ever understand." She laid her head upon hers again, her arms tightening around her. "He loves you so much, and when you dream—"

"Four times," Enguina whispered and tears flooded her eyes. "Four times the nightmare came, and the last was…it was so terrible. My heart is so terribly heavy, so full of fear. I cannot speak of it, Arwen, let it be."

"You should talk about it. You are hurting," she said, touching the side of her face, her ear. "I wish…I wish there was something more I could do."

"You can help me _sleep_ ," Enguina said, a bit desperately. "I am so exhausted. My hands are aching, my ribs are aching, and I am…I am so full of despair that I can see nothing but darkness." Her voice trailed off, so full of pain. She felt Arwen's arms hold her so tight, and leaned her head back against her shoulder. " _So much darkness_..."

"I canhelp you sleep," she whispered gently. She smoothed her hand along Enguina's hair, and the older elf pressed her face into Arwen's neck, turning her body so she half-lay against her.

"Just for a little while," she begged. " _Even an hour_ …"

Arwen's heart broke for her, and she cradled Enguina in her arms, resting her cheek against the elf's forehead. "I will do what little I can, sweet one. Close your eyes," she whispered, and Enguina did as Arwen began to hum again softly, closing her own and letting her healing power enter her. It was not much, but if she could take away the ache, the hurt, she would try.

"Arwen," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears, "how can Legolas still love me…when I am so broken, when I am in so much agony, when I wound him so much? _How?_ "

"Because he hopes in you," she replied, rocking her gently. "His love is stronger than your pain, deeper than your hurt. He trusts in Ilúvatar…that he will heal your hurts and make right your suffering. Legolas will not leave you or abandon you to fear. Trust him…and give yourself time to heal. Your despair will heal," she said, kissing her forehead, "and you will find peace again. Shhh…and sleep."

Arwen lulled her to sleep with this gentle song along with her small gift of peace.

 _One look at love and you may see_

 _It weaves a web over mystery_

 _All raveled threads can rend apart_

 _For hope has a place in the lover's heart_

 _Hope has a place in a lover's heart_

 _Whispering world a sigh of sighs_

 _The ebb and the flow of the ocean tides_

 _One breath, one word, may end or may start_

 _A hope in a place of the lover's heart_

 _Hope has a place in a lover's heart_

 _Look to love you can dream_

 _In your heart it lives, it gives you wings_

 _And if such love is meant to be_

 _Hope is home and the heart is free_

 _Under the heavens we journey far_

 _On roads of life we are wanderers_

 _So let love rise, let fear depart_

 _Hope has a place in a lover's heart_

 _Hope has a place in the lover's heart_

 _Look to love you can dream_

 _In your heart it lives, it gives you wings_

 _And if such love is meant to be_

 _Hope is home and the heart is free_

 _Yes, you are home and forever free._

* * *

It was nearly nightfall, and the small band rode along quietly in the fading sun. They had ridden several more miles after Enguina and Legolas had a bit more rest. With a grateful heart, Arwen praised Ilúvatar for allowing Enguina to sleep without dreams. Aragorn had taken a look at the wounds on her hands as she was resting; he had found them open and bleeding, as she had torn them after her nightmares. Even exhausted, Aragorn took some time to sing a low song over them as Legolas rested as well. Today, Legolas rode in the saddle on Lómë's back with Enguina behind him, her arms around his waist and her head resting upon his back.

Enguina had been quiet during their ride, though it seemed everyone was as Legolas looked about. Arwen appeared hawk-like to him, watching Aragorn in quick glances and then looking about at each of them. She was assuming the mother role of the group at this point, trying to assure herself that they were all capable of traveling. It was drawing towards night, and it would soon be time for their riding to end. Part of Legolas wished for this, but part of him was already having anxiety about Enguina having more dreams. He was certain she was dwelling on it, too, for as the night was drawing near she had grown even more pensive and silent.

"Enguina," he said suddenly, though softly, interrupting her brooding thoughts, "I have a question for you."

She lifted her head and settled her chin on her shoulder. "What can I answer you?"

"Do you remember the night we threw snowballs at each other and stood in the King's House trying to dry before dinner?"

He could almost _feel_ her confusion. "Of course I remember," she said softly. "It was the first night I thought what I felt for you might be something more…might be something I wanted. It was the first night that Aragorn encouraged me to let you pursue me instead of making a decision right then. And…I think, when I looked into your eyes by the fireplace as we were drying off, that it may have been the first time I felt… _drawn_ to you."

"I felt that, too," he said, and then he bumped her head gently with his, unable to help teasing her. "So…Aragorn told you that I would pursue you?"

She actually smiled, one of the first of the day. "I am not certain it was that night, but he told me that all men enjoy being in the pursuit of a woman. He was right, though…was he not?"

"Oh…he most certainly was right," he said, reaching up to curl her hair around his fingertips. "Yet, that was not the reason I mentioned the evening. The reason I mentioned the evening was for what _Arwen_ had said."

"Arwen? And what did she say?"

"She reminded you that you did not like being wet. I have been thinking about this for months, and I never remembered to ask you. So I thought I might ask while I am thinking of it…why do you hate the water so much? Do you simply not enjoy it? Do you not know how to swim? Is there a _tale_ that I am missing—"

" _No,_ " she denied firmly, and it only confirmed it for him that there was a story to go with her feelings about water. "There is no tale; I simply do not enjoy the water."

Legolas was quiet for a moment and then she felt him smile as he turned his head and kissed her forehead. "You are a _terrible_ liar."

She groaned. "I…do not wish to tell any stories about myself."

"Are you _afraid_ of water?"

"Yes…and no…and I do not want to tell it."

"What if I agree to tell you a story about something that frightened me?"

"Please do, but I am not saying anything about the water."

He laughed. "You are so secretive! Does Arwen know the story? Could she tell it?"

"No, she cannot!"

"I _can_ actually," Arwen said from a few feet in front of them. "But I will not tell it without permission."

"You were there when Enguina decided she did not like water?"

"Oh, tell it, Enguina," Arwen said. "It _is_ a fair enough question."

Enguina groaned again and pressed her chin into his shoulder. " _Fine_ …but I am not pleased."

"Noted."

"I had never been much of a swimmer," she said, sighing. "Everyone knew that. My brother would often swim, especially in the fast current of the Celebrant, in places where it was quite steep, as it was a challenge and he was very strong. This was several hundred years ago _and_ before Arwen came to Lórien for the first time…so, understand that my hatred of water occurred very long ago indeed. When I was…well…quite a bit younger than I am now, I _wanted_ to be able to swim like my brother. So…one day I followed him out there.

"I waited, of course, until he was finished; I needed to watch him first. It did not appear difficult, so I…leapt in."

"Into the _Celebrant_?"

"That was what _I_ said when I first heard the tale," added Arwen.

"Which part? Certainly not where the bridges are and the water is fast-flowing?" he asked, and she nodded against his back.

"I was very foolish, and I assumed I was a much better swimmer. I could hardly fight the current and to make a long, rather involved rescue tale where my brother was very much the hero short, that is the reason I do not like water. I had never been afraid of it until that day. Shallows, putting my feet in the water, fine…swimming…deep water…" she shook her head. "These are not for me."

"Do you know _how_ to swim?" Legolas asked her gently.

"Not very well," she admitted. "I…never thought it appeared difficult, as it always appeared effortless with Haldir." She sighed, a bit embarrassed. "But I…nearly drowned. I was unable to keep my head above the water, and I swallowed so much of it; he was _so_ very angry. I do not know what frightened me most about it. Being unable to touch the bottom, having the water cascading over my head, makes me ill thinking of it, but it is not only that. There is something about water all around me that just…" She shivered against his back. "Ugh…I do not wish to think of it anymore."

"The ocean would not be a very good place to take a quiet journey, would it?"

"Not if you were asking me to swim in it," she replied wryly.

"What if I offered to teach you?"

"I am afraid that knowing how matters very little anymore. There is already enough fear…moved along even further by this journey," she ended softly.

"If I taught you how to swim, you would not have to be afraid of drowning," he said easily.

"Can you teach me to swim in the tub? Because that is about as deep as I am going to get."

Legolas laughed and so did Arwen. "Oh, _Enguina_!"

"Well…we shall see, hmm?" he said. "You never know what I will work to convince you to do. I have my ways…and I shall be your husband, so you will have to listen to me."

She laughed outright, flicking his ear with her forefinger. "Oh really?"

"Well, yes," he said, pretending to be serious and trying to maneuver away from her fingers.

"And where, pray tell, is that written?"

"Come now, Guin, it will be in our vows."

"I think," Aragorn interrupted, tugging on Brego's reins, "that this appears a good camping place before it gets too dark…and Enguina strangles Legolas, or knocks him from Lómë's back."

Enguina laughed again. "Oh, the man knows me far too well."

"Can I not tease?" asked Legolas, looking a bit sad as Enguina used the stirrup to dismount. She rolled her eyes and watched him _carefully_ dismount. "The leg feels a bit better," he said to her, raising his eyebrows, "I do not wish to ruin a good thing."

"I understand," she replied, and she glanced over to watch Aragorn dismount even more slowly than Legolas. "He is exhausted, is he not?"

"He is going to go right to sleep. Guaranteed." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her gently to him, slipping a hand up beneath her hair and raising his eyebrows. "I was unable to kiss you all day long," he whispered, "and I did not like it at all."

She smiled as he pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face with his hand. "I was comfortable against you," she told him. "But…this is nice as well."

"Before we part," he said as she began to pull back, "I have a thought tonight."

"A thought?"

"A _plan_ , as it were…I have something I want to try for keeping the nightmares at bay." He stroked her face and then smiled at her. "You are going to fall asleep in my arms tonight. There will not be my mat and your mat…they will be ours. You will sleep _in_ my arms, not only beside me."

She blushed and then began to pull away. "Legolas, that is not—"

"I think we should try it," he said, keeping her with him. "I will hold you, and keep the nightmares away. I believe it will work." Enguina felt her throat go dry. She had slept in Legolas's arms before, but it had not been when they were engaged…when they were weeks from the wedding. He sighed very softly, and took her face in both of his hands, her hands now resting on his wrists. "Guin, do you not trust me?"

"Of…of course I trust you," she whispered. "With my life, with everything I am."

"Then," he said even more gently, "if you trust me with this, will you trust me with your heart?"

It was the most serious question he had ever asked her, more serious than asking her to go with him to the Anduin, more serious than asking her to tell him about her dreams…more serious even than marrying him. This was _different_. She could pledge her life to Legolas and love him beyond a doubt, but _did_ she trust him… _completely_? Knowing he loved her, knowing he cared about her more than his own life was clear to her…and she wanted with all her heart to trust him, to believe that every word he said was true. She searched his eyes for something that would turn her away, that would cause her to shrink back, but there was nothing but sincerity, nothing but love.

"I…I will trust you, Legolas," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "I will trust you with my heart," she whispered. "It belongs to you…just as you said yours belonged to me."

"It has…it does…it will," he said, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks. "I promise to take care of you; I promise I will not fail you." His eyes were full of devotion and she finally straightened.

"I…always hope that I can be for you what you are to me, Legolas," she told him, her voice soft, hurt. "Sometimes I feel as though I have nothing to bring to you."

"You need bring nothing. You are enough of a gift."

"But…it _cannot_ be that way," she whispered, disbelief in her voice. "I do not deserve you."

"You deserve to be loved," he stressed. "You deserve everything I have to give. Let me hold you tonight, my love. Let me be your wings and chase the shadows away." He kissed her forehead and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

 _Thank you, Ilúvatar…for giving me Legolas. Without him…without a light in all of this darkness…I would be dead._

* * *

Legolas opened his eyes, the night still dark; everything was silent and still. The horses made no sound, and there was no one moving about the camp. He breathed...and smelled Enguina's hair. Tightening his arms around her, he lifted his head so he could see her face. Her eyes were open and glazed as she was still asleep, one hand curled up underneath her throat and the fingers on her other hand interlacing with his. It was clear that both of them had been asleep for several hours, and yet, still no nightmares. He tugged her back even a bit more closely against his chest, and pressed his lips against her hair ever-so-gently.

 _Father, Great One! I call out to you tonight and I thank you. I bless your name! Thank you for helping Enguina and being at her side; one night without a nightmare is a step toward every night, Father. Help me, to continue to be her shield, her candle against the darkness. You have given her to me not only to love, but to protect. Help me, Father, to protect her even from herself. Only you can give me strength enough for her. Do not make me let her go; I cannot bear to be parted from her now. Give me time so I can reach her, time enough for her to heal. I cannot live without her; I do not know how I have for so long._

"Legolas?" The word startled him even though it was spoken so softly.

"Yes, _moina_?" She must have known he was awake as soon as she woke. Either that or she expected him to wake to the sound of his name.

There was quiet for too long; he thought perhaps she had either fallen back to sleep, or she had been asking for him in a dream she was having, but then her hand tightened on his and he heard her whisper, "Legolas, _hold_ me." Confused, even worried, he drew her closer, but it wasn't enough for her. She twisted in his arms, pressing herself to his chest, her face to his neck, her hands curled against her throat, trapped between their bodies. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her very close and pressing his face to her hair.

"Is everything all right, my Guin?"

" _Sometimes_ ," she whispered with a tremor in her voice, " _the night is so dark and cold_." He felt her shiver against him, and he knew very well that she did not mean she was cold or that she _thought_ it was cold.

"Did you dream, _moina_?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"No, but I woke and I...I needed you… _this_..." she said, "your arms. It was so very dark."

"I will not let the dark harm you, _touch_ you," he told her, and he brushed his hand to her face then, hugging her to his chest. "Just sleep...sleep..."

He felt her drifting, listened as her breathing evened out...and _worried_. What would happen when they returned to Mina's Tirith with barely three weeks before the wedding and he could not be at her side in the night, facing the darkness? He was going to worry for her every moment they had to be apart...every moment until they were sleeping beside each other, where if a dream came, he could comfort her. But he had to trust that Ilúvatar was going to figure this out. He had to; his faith had to be greater than his fear.

* * *

Enguina stood, watching the first rays of sun beginning to brighten the sky. It was a cold morning, and for a moment, she wished she had stayed on her mat; that wish drew her eyes to the elf in whose arms she had slept the last two nights. She turned away; if she stayed a moment more she would be driven back to his arms, and she needed some distance. Quietly, she untied Lómë, and walked him to a tall rock that happened to be nearby; normally, she could vault into the saddle, but her ribs were still healing. Hopping on his back a _bit_ ungracefully, she turned him towards the woods.

"We are not going too far, Lómë," she said, when she noticed the black looking back to Firgenwine. As soon as the words were spoken, Lómë immediately looked ahead, now excited about where they were heading instead of worrying about leaving the group. She smiled and rubbed his neck.

As she had said, they did not go far. A little glen was her destination, and she headed there. The morning was so quiet and still except the birds and squirrels chattering to each other in the trees. Upon arriving, she slipped from his back and let Lómë wander a bit and nibble the grass. She took a seat in the dewy grass and watched the sunrise, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on them.

 _This_ was not how she had intended to be spending the month before her wedding. She had thought they would be in Mina's Tirith, preparing. She had another dress fitting to attend to make sure it was perfect; they had not planned the wedding feast yet; she had a plan to set with Arwen that she had not even _mentioned_ to her yet; and they had not even _found_ a home in Ithilien, which had been first in Legolas's plan for the trip they had made. No, what it appeared was that the elf's intent of releasing her stress before the wedding had done the complete opposite, even if it had been unintentional. Instead, _everyone_ on the journey except Éowyn had been wounded in some way, yet was she not nearly ready to have her child? Even there, this had been a disaster! At the moment, Aragorn was in the most pain, though the man tried to hide it well.

She looked down at her hands. She did not even know how she was functioning right now, let alone sleeping in her betrothed's arms. Shivering with pain, she could not understand why she had not dissolved into tears already...and then she realized she _had._ Sorrow threatened to overcome her; even when she had slept quietly for two days with no nightmares, it was _still_ undoing her. Even now, she could feel his hands crawling over her shoulders as she laid her forehead on her arms and cried, desperation filling her. Had Bragolaur not told her he would haunt her forever? That he was the only man who could make her feel this way, so full of terror and fear that she simply wanted to run away and _never_ look back?

She lifted her head as she suddenly found herself throwing her body to her feet, staring out across the glade to the green forest...and then beyond. She found the edge of the woods drawing nearer as she realized she _could_ do it; she could get on Lómë right now and ride out and no one would ever find her, be able to follow her...not even Aragorn. Not where she would be going. She felt as though she could see the Havens, stretched out before her, and she was running toward them at full speed...and then she came to a halt at the edge of the woods.

 _Legolas_... As much as she wanted to run, as much as she hated what had happened, what she had been forced to suffer through, how could she just _leave_ him? She loved him far too much; it was a gift and a curse...and it drew her to her knees there. She _hurt._ What was worse was that it had happened just as she had dreamed it would; she had dreamed that _he_ would come for her, just as he had said, and then he had and had tied her down just as he had in Lórien. And to be right in front of Legolas, to be there just before him where he could watch her being taken, his _betrothed_... She was so impure now; he deserved someone whole, someone who _was_ pure for him, who had saved themselves for him. The thought tore her up inside. He had said it did not matter, but the truth was that it mattered _hugely_. It affected them both in ways he could not possibly begin to comprehend.

What was she to do when Legolas went to lay her down? How in the _world_ was she to lie with him when all she had ever known was terror? She would be so afraid, she would not know what to do; she might freeze or even worse go mad and start screaming or wrenching away from him. This was what she was most afraid of. Part of her desperately could not wait for the wedding so that she could understand what real love was, what physical love was really like with a person who adored and cherished her...and the rest of her was so afraid that instead of seeing Legolas, she would see _him_. The last thing she wanted in the entire world was to be loving Legolas and seeing _him_. Was there a way to fight these feelings she had? If there was, she did not know how. Lying with him should have been easy, something she _desired_ , looked forward to, instead of something she feared. It was not that she feared Legolas, though that may have been true too; did she fear his hands on her…or _want_ them? How would she know? Or was it fearing the _act_ of love-making...afraid it would _hurt_ as it had with... Her hands found her abdomen, the phantom pain filling her, and she gasped crying out to the sunrise:

 _How many times have you heard me cry out:_

 _God, please take this?_

 _How many times have you given me strength_

 _To just keep breathing?_

 _Oh, I need you!_

 _God, I need you now!_

"How many times have I asked you to take this away?" she cried out, tears pouring down her face. "Where _are_ you?! I am _desperate_ , Father... _desperate_ for your presence, your healing. What in heaven's name are you _doing_ to me? What is your plan? Where _are_ you? Can you not hear me? Do you not _care?_ I have _begged_ you to rescue me, to save me from this pain, and yet here I am and it is _worse than ever_.

" _He_ came," she sobbed, gasping for breath and clutching her chest. "He _came_ ; did you not see?! Could you not see what he did to me? He touched me; he forced himself against me, before the man who is to be my husband! Who _you_ gave to me! What are you _doing_? I do not understand! Why would you let him do such a terrible thing, and then continue to haunt me! He is in every dream, every thought…I cannot _escape_ him! I can feel him inside me, even now. I am in so much _pain_. Can you not help me? _Will_ you not help me?"

Something, suddenly, touched her hair, and she yanked away, turning her head and bringing up her hands to protect herself. A black nose hung directly in her face, and she cupped her hands around it, realizing exactly what had been prodding her gently.

" _Oh_ , _Lómë_ ," she whispered brokenly, and he reached forward and touched his nose to her chest. Curling his legs beneath him, he laid down in the soft grass, and she immediately pulled herself to the warmth of his body, laying against him and running her fingers through his mane, crying softly. She stayed like this for some time, accepting his comfort, a part of her alive enough to feel a bit in awe of him, so grateful that he understood her desperate need.

"Lómë," she said softly, rubbing her hand along his neck, "thank you. I...needed this." He reached out and touched his nose to her hands, and she rubbed his forehead. "I am not very good company...I am not... _well_." And the moment the words were out, she felt as though they were as close to the truth as she could get. What had happened to her, what was still happening to her, made her that way...it was the only way to describe how she was feeling. _Unwell_. "I would like to sit here a little while longer...until the sun is fully up." She brushed his long foremane out of his eyes and he breathed out heavily. "Thank you, for being willing to share it with me until we return to camp."

And she had decided she would go back. She could do nothing else; she was not brave enough…and she knew she would never be able to admit that to anyone.

* * *

Arwen sighed, stroking her fingers through Aragorn's hair as he slept on beside her. She was angry with him, though she was not going to tell him that. He had not told her the truth about the wound and how much it had been paining him, and tonight after he had fallen asleep, she had found he had a slight fever. _A fever_? He was supposed to be recovering! She had used her gift to keep him asleep throughout her ministrations on the wound. He gave so little thought to himself; though Aragorn could not simply mend broken bones, every wound was healing quite well except the broken ribs Legolas and Enguina were still favoring and Gimli's broken fingers. She knew he _had_ to do this; he wanted to see them all safe and cared for...but when he was weak himself, this made her worry like nothing else.

To top that off, Enguina had woken with another nightmare...a _bad_ one. Their small company was one day's ride short of Henneth Annûn, and the dreams would still not let up on her. _Three_ nights Enguina had slept soundly without them; tonight she had been sleeping in Legolas's arms again, and Arwen could not help but question Ilúvatar closely; why had the nightmare come? Her friend had not woken up screaming this time, but when she began whimpering aloud and shaking, Legolas had woken her immediately. He was holding her now, as she was half-asleep, half-crying in his arms; but Arwen would not disturb them. She worried for Enguina enough. Just yesterday morning, she had woken to Legolas nearly frantic with worry, though he tried to hide it. He had seen Lómë missing and was in a state of sheer panic-where was Enguina; why had she taken Lómë; was she intending to _leave_ him? Arwen had been equally worried about her, but then Enguina had come riding into camp upon Lómë as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Legolas had tried then to hide his desperation. He tried so hard not to crowd her, but it was difficult when he had every reason to be afraid, for both her safety and that she might suddenly leave him. Arwen frowned at that; Legolas and Enguina should be _secure_ , there should have been no reason for Legolas to doubt. That upset her as well.

And even worse, ten minutes before Legolas and Enguina had woken, _she_ had woken from an awful dream herself. She shivered, stiff with pain; it had been about the baby… _again_. Oddly enough, _she_ had not woken screaming or screeching for Aragorn in her head. If she had, he would most certainly be awake. So why now? Why tonight? She had no idea, but she lay still beside her beloved, holding herself tightly to him without getting near the wound. She had been so distracted for the past month with Annî, with worry over Legolas and then Enguina and Gimli, that she simply had not been asleep with nothing to think of. Yes, that must be the reason for the dream tonight. Again, the memory of it made her shiver, the pain as fresh this moment as it had been four months ago. At least tonight she had not woken wailing. _Ugh_...the last time she had the dream she had been screaming in her sleep so loudly the guards had thought she was being attacked. Aragorn had not been there, but Captain Mennev had rushed in to protect her, completely unaware she was dreaming. It had _not_ been pretty, and he had been scared to death, reacting to her and then sending someone immediately to retrieve the King as she had been inconsolable. Aragorn had arrived and tried to calm things down a bit, but she had felt so guilty she had apologized to Mennev the following morning and thanked him for his quick response to her distress; he had been embarrassed by the acknowledgment, but she had been grateful.

"You are awake," came Aragorn's sleepy voice from above her head.

"You are supposed to be sleeping," she said, her voice low. He could hear soft crying and the gentle, spoken words of Legolas. It made him want to cry out with grief. _Ilúvatar, is there nothing you can do to give her peace? She is struggling so much, Father!_

"Did Enguina wake you?" he asked, laying a hand over her back. He could feel her trembling and that woke him up directly. "Are you—"

"Enguina did not wake me," she replied, her voice even softer than before. ""It was something else." She felt him open his mouth to speak, but she quickly moved ahead and interrupted him. "Why are you awake?" she whispered back. He grunted and she lifted her head to look at him. "What? What is it?"

He laughed softly. "Why awake? I am in _serious_ pain."

She frowned at him. "So serious it woke you? Aragorn—"

"You cleaned it, did you not? I can tell," he sighed, letting out half a gasp of pain.

"You were feverish," she said, and she watched him close his eyes.

"I am sorry."

A scowl flashed across her face for a moment and then it was gone; he did not see it. She knew she was on edge from the dream, so she tried to have more patience. "I was worried. I did not think I had cleaned it too roughly. _I_ should be sorry."

"No, I should have told you, my caretaker," he laughed softly as he looked in her eyes. She sat up and he tried to catch her to make her stay beside him. "Arwen—"

"I do not want to talk," she muttered, and he watched her wipe her left eye before rolling him gently onto his back and opening the front of his tunic. He knew then, what had woken her. He covered her hand, but she pulled away. " _Stop_ , Aragorn...can you simply let me do this?"

He laid his hand back on the ground and stayed very still so that she could look at the wound, and he did not look at her face, feeling downright miserable. Closing his eyes, he waited her out; her hands on his skin felt good, like ice against the pain. She blinked, three, four, five times against the wetness she felt filling her eyes. It did not make it go away, and she felt the tears fall, her frustration building. She needed to pull herself together. There were so many others who needed her right now...and yet, _she_ had needs, too, did she not? _Can you not simply keep it together, Arwen? What is_ wrong _with you?_

Her hands stilled on his shoulder, and he heard her whisper brokenly, "I have been angry with you, and it is not fair to you. I-I do not know what is the matter with me. I do not mean to push you away; I _know_ you only want to help. I know I have been so...so difficult at times, and this has been hard on you as well, and I am _sorry_... _so_ _sorry...I have no excuse..._ "

He looked at her, listening to her babble hoarsely, her face turned away from him, tears on it. "Beloved, I forgive you, though I feel that there is nothing to forgive. You are not difficult; you are hurting, and you are trying to find a way to cope on your own without me pressing in on you and trying to help all the time," he said softly.

"But I _need_ you," she said, reaching a hand up to wipe her eyes again. "Even just to press myself against you and feel you beside me. I feel so selfish sometimes, as though you do not understand, but then I remember you do and I need you all the more." She began to re-cover the wound, but much more gently this time, trying to take the pressure from his arm. "I am not alone..." she whispered.

"No," he agreed gently, "you are not alone, but I understand why sometimes you feel that way."

"I...am _not_ ready to cope with this on my own," she whispered. "I do not know if I will ever be ready; if I _can_ ever be ready."

He covered her hand with one of his, the good one. "That is all right, you know."

She looked tiredly into his eyes. "Is it? I was thinking of Mennev and what he must have thought that night when he had to enter the House...he thought me mad."

"No, he did not," he said firmly. "He was terribly worried, and afraid you were seriously wounded." He squeezed her hand. "Why did you not wake me?"

She looked down. "You needed the rest."

His eyebrows lifted. "And you do not? You, who cannot stop worrying for me, who cannot stop worrying for Enguina, who cannot stop thinking about their relationship and praying it will get through this trial they continue to face, who cannot stop thinking about the baby—" she flinched, "—and you take all of this on yourself. You cannot carry all the burdens of the world and expect to make it through every night unscathed." He sighed. "How _does_ the wound look tonight?"

"Better since I cleaned it," she said and he brought her hand to his lips. "You still have a slight fever, and I would feel better if not for that. It must mean there is infection somewhere."

"We will be in Henneth Annûn tomorrow, and the Healer there will have the herbs I need. Do not worry, Arwen." He tilted his head. "I no longer hear Enguina." Arwen turned her head and looked over to them.

""She has fallen back to sleep against Legolas; he holds her still," she said softly. "I am not even sure he knows we are awake." She frowned and said sadly, "I am so _worried_ , Aragorn. I am so afraid this will be too much for her; too much strain." She made sure that the wound was covered and well-tended. Lying back down beside him, she let him hold her close. "I know Legolas spoke with you a few days ago..."

He nodded. "And I listened to your beautiful song when we returned; you had Legolas in tears. I did not wish to disturb you both, and Enguina slept for a few hours, so it was worth it. He is worried that he should postpone the wedding and that she needs more time to heal, to recover. She...he told me that she wished she was dead."

Arwen's head shot up. " _What?_ "

"Shh..." he said, and he tugged her back down. "She did not mean it; she had woken from that last nightmare and was in pain. She is all right."

"No, she is not," she murmured. "I wish you had told me."

"And what would you have done?"

"I need to talk to her."

He hesitated. "Perhaps she simply needs time, Arwen. With time, the dreams will lessen. With time, she will trust Legolas with her heart."

"She needs to do that now," Arwen whispered, "before it is too late."

"Too late?" Aragorn felt his heart plummet. "What do you mean?"

There was silence for a moment. "I…I do not know…"

"Yes, you do," he said a bit more firmly. "What is it?"

"I think she is going to run..." she whispered. "Or do something equally terrible."

He shook his head. "It is dark, and night changes many thoughts, including yours. Why would she do that? Legolas will stay with her and she will be safe. She has no reason to go, not if Legolas is willing to stay with her, willing to do whatever it takes."

"He _is_ willing, yes?"

"You _did_ threaten his life," Aragorn pointed out, trying to tease her, to lighten the mood a bit. "I am not certain he has a choice."

She smiled for the first time since dinner. "I did, did I not? When a man says he is serious, he had better be serious."

"Oh, believe me, he is _serious_."

"Because she will be gone otherwise," she stated. "A heart can only take so much." He thought about her words and they made him sad again. No matter how many times she told him that she loved him, had given everything for him because of that love, he still felt at times that it was a heavy price to pay. He brushed his fingers over hers and she shifted her body so he could not do it; it was almost as if she read his mind. "I did not say _mine_ , Aragorn," she said sternly. "I am here for good."

"I am glad to hear it," he whispered, "because my life would be completely empty without you beside me."

"I know," she replied. "And I would be dead without you."

He did not respond to that; how could he? He knew it very well; she would die of a broken heart. Elves felt things in ways that humans could not comprehend. He ran his fingers through her hair. "Do you think Enguina realizes that she needs Legolas as he needs her? That he will lose his heart if she does not stay?"

"I think she _does_ know...but she is in so much pain right now, she cannot see through that blindness. I pray she will find her way."

"You need to rest," he said gently after a few moments.

"You first," she told him. "And if you feel feverish again, you need to tell me. Stop hiding."

He nodded. "How is your knee?"

"Fine...and stop asking me about it."

"Do not be so grouchy." She rolled her eyes.

"That strain pales in comparison to your wound, beloved. Let us focus on one thing at a time. Right now, the focus is you."

"I hate when the focus is me."

"Well, the next time you decide to leap into a river to save someone, think before you smash yourself into a tree. Then, you will have no injuries and you will not _be_ in the focus."

It was _his_ turn to roll his eyes. "As I told Legolas, I could not control what happened to me, only what happened to Enguina. If she had hit, she would have been dead."

"And everyone is very grateful," she told him, fingering his chin. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." He tightened his arm around her. "You will be all right?"

She sighed. "Just keep holding me," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I will be fine."


	30. Chapter 30

As they rode within five miles of Henneth Annûn, the first ranger met them on foot, hailing Aragorn and as thrilled as anything to see them all alive and, it appeared, quite well. He was more than happy to escort them to the Forbidden Pool, but as Aragorn knew his way and the man was on foot, he relieved him of the duty and let the man remain at his post. It did not take them very long to cover the last few miles, and they heard the calls of the Rangers' horns, letting those near the Pool know they were returning. When they came upon the hidden entrance, Aragorn had to grin when he saw Éowyn and Faramir hurrying out to greet them, Annî leading the two of them with Éowyn a bit behind.

 _Tiriel!_ was the first word out of Annî's mouth, and Arwen was the first one on the ground, reaching out to scoop her off her feet and into her arms. Aragorn dismounted carefully and grinned at Faramir, full of gladness to see him _hurrying_ anywhere.

"You look wonderful, my friend," he said, and they clasped arms as Éowyn rushed past, wrapping her arms around Legolas in a hurry.

"Thank Ilúvatar!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "We were so worried about you! We have thought of nothing but all of you since Faramir was healed."

"That was honest!" said Gimli with a grin, hopping from Firgenwine's saddle.

"Well," Faramir interrupted, giving Arwen a one-armed hug, "she was thinking of _me_ first, naturally."

Legolas laughed softy. "I am all right, Éowyn. _Everything_ is all right. You look—"

" _Very_ pregnant!" laughed Faramir. "We know!"

"I was _not_ going to say that," Legolas insisted, but Éowyn was on her way to hug Enguina and Gimli as Legolas grasped Faramir carefully in a hug. "I am so glad you are well and walking, Faramir. I thought neither one of us might make it home."

"We were both very lucky," the man replied, nodding. He looked around him. "Should I assume those to blame for this mess are dead?"

"Very dead, indeed!" called Gimli. "And even though we may look like hell, you should've seen the others!"

"There are a few broken ribs and fingers between us; most of our other wounds are nearly finished healing," Legolas told him, "and Aragorn needs to see the Healer, but we are doing well."

"Of course _Aragorn_ needs to see the Healer," Faramir replied, rolling his eyes. The man was in the process of holding Annî so he could not retaliate. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"It should not," replied Legolas with a smile as Éowyn was hugging Enguina tight. He watched her a moment and it was clear that Éowyn knew something was not quite right...that something had happened while on this journey.

"Enguina," she whispered in her ear, "I am so glad that you all made it home safely. Thank Ilúvatar!" Enguina could not speak for a moment, and Éowyn felt her stiffen beneath her arms. "Is everything all right?"

"It is fine, Éowyn," she replied softly. "How are you?"

"Ugh... _fine_ aside from feeling a bit like a bloated cow." She grinned at her as Enguina shook her head. "I may or may not look it, as Faramir tries to tell me every morning, but I feel it."

"Legless! Legless!" Annî cried as Aragorn put her gently on the ground. She ran into Legolas's knees full-tilt and nearly bowled him over as he laughed. "Gimi! Eguina!" The little girl was so glad to see them all that there was little time to talk and no time to do anything but hug each other, and another round of hugs were soon issued, as no one could let each other out of their sights.

"Come inside," Faramir said, taking Enguina's arm as she was nearest, and Legolas took Éowyn's. "Take some rest, we will prepare some dinner, and Aragorn can make a quick stop at the Healers. It is so good to have you all home!"

* * *

Enguina stood on her own in the same cavern that she, Gimli, and Éowyn had stood in before they had discovered the disappearance of Faramir and Legolas. The water over the falls continued steadily, and the sound drowned out her thoughts. She was alone at the moment, but she was unsure if she wanted to be. Part of her felt that was a pleasant surprise...and part of her felt that was the most foolish thing any of them could do right now. It was just the way she felt; in fact, she was not even sure _how_ she felt. Did she _want_ to be alone? Did she want to be surrounded by people? A million things poured through her mind, but she could get a handle on none of them. It was frustrating, to have these thoughts and lose them as suddenly as they arrived.

Dinner had been a happy affair. Faramir was in good humor and had all of them laughing; Annî was so excited to see them all that she had worn herself out. When dinner had ended, it was not too late in the evening, but every one of them was exhausted from the traveling. They would rest here until tomorrow and then journey home. Messengers had been sent by Faramir to Minas Tirith to announce the return of the King and the safety of his comrades. They would be journeying out of Henneth Annûn tomorrow, so at this time, everyone in their party was taking some much needed rest.

As much as her thoughts were in turmoil, what irked her even more was the moment that she heard Legolas's boot scuff behind her on the stone-she had not even known he was there, and normally, he would have touched her to let her know. But because of all the _chaos_ he could not even touch her as a surprise and let her feel his fingertips and know it was him. No, no; he knew very well how she would react—startle and lash out to defend herself. And suddenly, she realized it did not _irk_ her...she was _depressed_. She did not turn towards him, tears filling her eyes, and he reached up and placed a warm and loving hand on her left arm, and then the other.

"Love, are you tired?" came his whispered voice, and it made her want to sigh. Instead, she nodded slowly, feeling miserable and unable to boost her own spirits to respond in a way that would lighten the mood. He rubbed his hands along her arms, stroking her skin gently. "It is all right to be tired," he told her. "We have been traveling hard for many—"

"It is not that," she mumbled, and he could hear the tears in her voice. She was so _sad_ …and she was not even sure of the reason for it tonight. Was it simply memories of Bragolaur? Or was this something else? "I do not know what is wrong with me."

He brought her back against his chest and slowly crossed his arms around her, pressing his face to the top of her head. "Can we talk about it?"

"What is there that we have not talked about before?" she replied, her face scrunching up in the effort of controlling her emotions. "I cannot…I cannot _stop_ this…this…"

"What?" he asked her gently.

"These _feelings_. Of insecurity…of despair…of terror…of nightmarish pain. They follow me like a shroud of shadows, like a great weight over my heart. I feel as though…every time the thoughts press in he wins, because it is killing me and tearing us apart."

"We are not torn apart," he tried to encourage her. "I am here; I am not going to leave."

" _Why_?" she whispered, her voice broken. "You _should_ leave…I am…I am pathetic."

"Stop demeaning yourself," he said, his voice a bit more firm. "You have been _hurt_ , Guin—"

"Do not make excuses for me," she insisted bitterly. "There is no excuse for the way I am behaving, but I cannot…I cannot overcome this despair I feel. I…I do not know what to do." He could feel the tightness in her chest, the tears that fell on his arms. "And I cannot understand why, when I am so changed, you could possibly want to love… _this._ "

"I love _you_." He released his hold on her and turned her toward him, the moonlight shining through the water to strike their forms as they stood there, silhouetted against the falls. "Did I not ask you to marry me?" he questioned her, cupping her face in his hands. She did not answer at first, assuming he was not seeking an answer. "Enguina?"

"Yes," she whispered. She knew what he was going to say; he had told her a thousand times already. Why could she not believe his words?

"I was well-prepared for everything that meant, everything that goes along with the commitment of pledging myself to become your husband. I _will_ continue to love you, even were the stars to burn out, even through the worst trial we will ever know, even in the most awful circumstances, even when we are so angry with each other we wish that we could walk away and never look back. I will love you, forever and ever. I am not going to leave you. _Not ever_." He felt as though he was repeating this daily. Why could she not trust him? Why could she not take him at his word? He was desperate for patience when it was not his strength; he was upset that even now, after he had professed his love a thousand times, she still did not trust his word. But he tried to hide it from his face; he did not want her to know that it hurt him for her not to trust him still, after all this time.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, and the words she spoke were true—she desperately wanted to believe him, "but this despair takes my heart and I…and I am…I cannot understand why after everything that happened, after everything you have said, I am still in this place. It has been...what? Almost two weeks since Aragorn and Arwen came to rescue us? Why—" she swallowed hard, downright miserable, "why am I no better? Why have the nightmares not lessened? Why, when I have asked Ilúvatar for healing, has he not answered?"

Her eyes flooded with tears. "Legolas, when I look at you, I do not want to see him. When you touch me, I do not want to feel him. But I _do_ …and I do not know how to stop it! My despair tears me up inside—"

"Guin, you have to… _we_ have to give it some more time. Healing takes time, _moina_."

"We have barely three weeks before the wedding," she replied miserably, her breath catching as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "We do not _have_ any time. The nightmares need to stop. How can I stop them? I have tried everything!" And she found, as suddenly as the words left her mouth, that she _wanted_ an answer; she was _desperate_ for one. Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her something, to find a way to help her fight him. What could he say?

"Sleep in my arms again tonight," he whispered to her gently, reaching down to draw her hands to his chest. "Before you sleep, we will pray…and then we will talk of wonderful things, like Ithilien and ponies and flowers and sunshine…and perhaps you can forget before you sleep. Perhaps you can leave him behind tonight."

She looked at him incredulously, and her voice reflected her disbelief. "You really think that talking about sunshine is going to prevent a nightmare?"

"I believe it could," he replied, his voice still very soft, "if we are determined to make it work."

"You said the same thing about sleeping in your arms," she whispered back. He leaned his forehead against hers, tightening his hands.

"And it worked for three nights," he insisted. "Do not be so negative. Believe with me that this will work, and keep your mind from him." He smiled then, reaching up one hand to twist the strands of hair from behind her ears, curling one around his fingers. "Think about me instead."

"About you?" she murmured as she watched him nod, hearing that tease in his voice and feeling his fingers winding in the hair she had tucked away moments ago. "What are you doing?"

"Setting the captives free."

"What?" she stuttered out, suddenly blushing. "Stop that…"

His smiled widened. "Why? Because I am sufficiently distracting you? It is my goal for the evening."

"I…I just put them there."

He nodded. "They are too nice to allow them to be tucked away. You should wear your golden hair down more often." He reached up and released the pins that held her hair up.

"Legolas—" she began to protest, embarrassed again.

"There will be less tension in your shoulders and your neck when your hair is down," he told her softly, sending his fingers up into her hair to massage her scalp gently. "Let me rub the tension away." He watched as her eyes closed. "You cannot tell me it does not feel good."

"It is…more than good," she admitted, and he smiled.

"Let us sit here by the falls for a little while, and I will ease your trouble as much as I can," he told her gently. "Come with me." He drew her slowly down by his hands in her hair and against her head. She followed him willingly, because there was no way she would deny herself something that felt so good and comforting. She could only pray that he was right about keeping the memories at bay.

Enguina tried, rather desperately, to trust him.

* * *

She sat trembling before the falls where she had been standing only hours before. Her arms wrapped around her knees, head down, shoulders shaking with tears both shed and unshed. She had never felt more alone…and it had been of her own doing. She had chased him away; Legolas had tried everything to remain at her side and she had shunned him, shoving him back and crying out at him, begging him to leave her alone to stop touching her skin.

Trying to tear off her skin in the middle of her dream had frightened him; he had been trying to hold her back from tearing herself apart when she finally came back to her own mind. After screaming and then trying desperately to contain the sickness and terror flooding through her and the memories of Bragolaur, she found she could not do it. Instead, she wept, crying, retching, so shaken she could barely hear him, see him; but she could _feel_ him, and she could not bear it.

As soon as he had turned, she had nearly wanted to beg him to come back and hold her…but she could not do it. She could not hurt him more than she already had, and it hurt to admit that she was in serious pain. So he had done as Enguina had begged him and left her side, left her alone at the falls, staring out into the night, her heart as dark as clouds covered the moon in shadow. Yes, she was alone, and she felt the misery, the darkness sweep over her and she buried her face even harder in her knees and began pulling her hair.

How could she bear to fight something she could not _see_? This was in her memory, in her head, and she could not get it out no matter what she tried. Thumping her hands against her head and moaning in agony, she sobbed, miserable because of the dream, miserable because she could think of nothing else, and miserable because yet again she had torn Legolas's heart out with her words and actions.

Throwing herself forward onto her knees, she crawled towards the very edge of the rocks, looking down over the falls. As she stared, tears pouring down her face, she studied the rushing drops, the long way down, the sharp rocks that were sure to supply a fast ending. All she had to do was simply let herself go—all she had to do was drop off, fall, and land in that bit of shallow water, and it would all be over. There would be no more dreams, no more misery…just emptiness and darkness.

She hated herself for the thoughts but they came, unbidden; her tears continued.

"Come back from the edge, _aiwë_."

The words entered her as if through a fog, quiet and whispered. She knew whose they were and what was said, what the words required of her. Looking down over the edge again she suddenly realized how close she really was; all she had to do was lean forward. Lean forward…and she would not have another nightmare. Turning her head, peering out at him through her fingers, she caught sight of his grey eyes. Hers were full of agony; he could see in them how easy it would be.

"Come back from the edge," Aragorn repeated, and he lowered himself to one knee, extending a hand to her as if she were a wounded animal needing to be encouraged not to fear.

She came. As she came to him, she recognized that there had been no request in his voice. It had been a command, albeit a softly spoken one, and she had obeyed him. How could she do anything else? He took one of her arms in his large hand and held her still, but he did not draw her to him and hold her. The part of her that could think was grateful; she could not bear that right now. Her nightdress and hair were wet from the spray of the water and her tears, and she was shivering from cold and the lasting terror. Aragorn reached over and wrapped a heavy blanket around her shoulders and shaking form. Then, he sat down beside her, rubbing warmth back into her back and arms. She did not speak; what could she say? How had he known to come? Had he heard her? Did he have a sixth sense to danger? Did he think that after she had sent Legolas out that she would think of ending it all? Her sobs were heavy; she could not hold them back.

Enguina cried for a long time; it seemed like hours though she had no idea how long it had been or how many times Aragorn had rubbed the blanket to warm her. She sniffed softly, finally getting herself under control, but she still could find no words. That was all right; Aragorn spoke first.

"You need to stop chasing Legolas away." Again, the words were soft, but serious, blunt. She swallowed hard; his hand still rested on her back. It angered her that she could handle Aragorn here, and not Legolas when all the elf wanted to do was comfort her; it angered her that Aragorn had come as Legolas's emissary. If the elf was not allowed, why was the man?

"He sent you." An accusation.

"No," he answered, and she heard no lie in his voice, "but he came to me. He is worried _sick_ over you."

"I would be, too," she whispered.

"He was so distraught," Aragorn continued, "that he was in tears."

That surprised her. "What?"

"Enguina," the man said, and she had to lift her head at the tone of his voice, "have you ever seen someone in agony?"

"I…" she had to think. _Agony?_ She could hardly focus, but then she remembered. "Yes."

"Remember what it was like."

She stared at him; was he _angry?_ His words were clipped, precise; his tone curt. But he did not _appear_ angry…was it concern she was seeing? She had never seen him this way; this was a different Aragorn, and she was unsure how to respond. "It…it was awful."

"Why."

Why had it been awful? She thought back to the moment in the guesthouse not four months before—Arwen had been waiting for her to return with Legolas and had fallen asleep on her divan. They had returned to find her wide-awake and wailing in pain, clutching her chest as though she could tear out her heart, and Enguina had tried to comfort her; Legolas had run for the White Tower.

"There was nothing I could do," she whispered. "I could not make it better by sitting with her, but I could not leave. I was trapped—I could not leave her, but I could give her no comfort."

"Imagine that feeling ten thousand times at least," Aragorn continued and watched her face turn to horror. "Yes… _that_ is what you made Legolas feel tonight…and then you broke his heart."

"Wh…what?"

"You have no idea what your turning him away does to his heart, Enguina. You may, for some reason, wish to be alone, but turning him aside when he is beside you, ready and willing to simply give you the comfort of a presence that aches for your pain…that is _entirely_ unfair." She tried to look away, tears filling her eyes again, but he would not let her, tipping her chin up with his hand.

"How many times has he confessed his love? How many times has he told you that he will never leave you, that he will love you even when there is difficulty? He is hopelessly in love with you; he knows of all your dreams now, there is nothing more to hide from him. You cannot send him away and expect him to be at peace with it."

"I…I did not know what else to do!" she cried out, crushed by his words. "I do not mean to hurt him! He cannot sit by and watch me like this; he cannot _touch_ me!"

"Then let him sit, and when you are ready, let him give comfort. Enguina, if Arwen had sent you from her side, had pushed you away and told you to leave her, how would you have felt? With her in utter misery and you had to turn your back and abandon her."

"No, that is not—"

"It is entirely the same," he interrupted her, "made all the more worse by the knowledge that you are to share your lives together and you are chasing him away at full speed. He _knows_ now; there is nothing left to hide! He wants to help you face it; he wants to help comfort you, even in your worst moments; he wants to care for you when you cannot do it alone. You _must_ share this burden, Enguina. _You must_."

She choked back tears. " _How?_ " she pleaded with him. " _How can I share this? There is no way._ "

"Let him carry it, as much as he can bear. _Tell_ him about the dream; _talk_. Sometimes that will be impossible; other times it will be easier. Let him ease your mind, reassure you of his love, of Ilúvatar's love, of the bright morning to come. Let him shelter you from the darkness; see his arms as a refuge, not a prison. But to send him from your side in your moments of weakness is not something you should ever do. You are crushing his heart, Enguina."

Enguina lowered her head, crying openly now, and this time Aragorn did take her in his arms. She gripped his tunic, holding tight to him as she buried her face into his shoulder. Painfully, he held her for a few moments, but he did not let her go.

"He loves you more than anything in this life," he told her gently, "and he would lay himself down at your feet. Let him be beside you, if for nothing else than to give you that presence of faithfulness, of devotion, even when it is hard. It is in our own weakness, Enguina, that we can find our strength. He will _be_ your strength, but you must let him remain at your side."

There was silence for a few moments, and then she felt him begin to draw back from her. "He is here," he whispered, so only she could hear him. "Now…let him come to you, and do not be afraid, but _give_ your fear to him."

Aragorn stood suddenly, releasing her, and she smelled Legolas before she opened her tear-filled eyes to see him. He stood only a few feet from her, and Enguina did not even notice where the man had gone—he may have been a figment of her imagination the entire time he had been there for all she noticed his absence. Her crying increased and she reached for him, crying his name.

" _Legolas! Legolas!_ " she moaned aloud, and he fell down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. " _Forgive me!_ _Forgive me! I never meant…I did not mean…I am so sorry!"_

" _I forgive you_ ," came his whispered words, his voice breaking.

Unable to speak then, she clutched at him, pushing herself to him as though they could become one person simply by the press of their bodies together, and he held her, content to be of some use to her even though it was little.

* * *

The delight of Annî was the best distraction on their return journey from Henneth Annûn. Her laughter and joy filled everyone's hearts with peace as they rode through the woods of Ithilien on the second day of their ride. This time, there was no hurry. Éowyn was very heavy now with child; Faramir, Legolas, and Enguina were still recovering and even Aragorn was now flooded with herbs to drive away any last infection. The last Arwen had looked upon it was this morning and it _finally_ was healing quite well.

She found herself spending an awful lot of time _thinking_ on these last few days in their journey. With regret, she had discovered that Soronar had departed Henneth Annûn when he had fully recovered from his wounds—they were unlikely to ever see him again—and those who had known him were sorry they had not even been able to say goodbye. She hoped that Soronar was finally content, that he might find peace instead of danger as he hunted the last of the orcs, and that he might find himself, finally, in the Undying Lands.

She thought of Enguina. The nightmare of two nights ago was a thing of the past, but Enguina's quiet disturbed her. Arwen knew very well that the joy of Annî penetrated even Enguina, but in the evening she became quiet, worried about the long night to come. It bothered her more than she could say; she knew Aragorn had spoken with Enguina and encouraged her again to remember that Legolas loved her, that he would never leave her. She hoped it had been enough. She personally had not spoken about the dreams with Enguina since before arriving in Ithilien, and she hoped that she would not need to do so again. Her hope was that Aragorn's talk and Legolas's hurt had made her realize that she needed to rely on the elf. She _hoped_. Aside from that, she could not say.

She looked out ahead between Asfaloth's ears and far off she could see the White City—another day's ride. They would be home, and they would be thrown into the turmoil of the finishing of plans for the wedding. Arwen knew that Enguina was probably looking forward to and dreading the planning, but she would do everything she could to make it easier on her. As much chaos as this journey had been, as much worry and hurt had happened along the way, she was a bit sorry to return to their duties.

Aragorn's hand covered hers as it rested on her thigh. She looked over at him and he gave her a little smile. "A kiss for your thoughts?" he asked softly, and she laughed when he brought her hand up to his lips.

"I was only thinking of home," she replied. "I will miss the freedom of being here, of riding…or having the freedom to travel with you."

He smiled. "Yes, I was thinking of it, too." Squeezing her hand, he continued, "We will simply have to make more time for one another, yes? That should not be too difficult."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "No, when has that ever been difficult, Aragorn?"

"Tiriel! Tiriel!" came the cry from behind them, and the two of them turned as Dwimorisen drew up alongside Asfaloth. "I saw a bufferfly!"

"A butterfly?" asked Arwen, grinning at her. "What color was it?"

"Black and blue!" she said, climbing over onto Asfaloth's rump and startling Faramir.

"Annî!" he said, exasperatedly but Arwen just smiled as she felt the little girl's arms encircle her waist as she dropped down behind the saddle.

"It is perfectly fine, Faramir."

"Yes," he sighed, but he reached over and tapped Annî on the shoulder. "Annî, I want you to _ask_ Daddy before you get off his horse."

She nodded very seriously. "Yes, Daddy."

"All right."

"Tiriel!" she cried immediately, turning her head back to Arwen. "I see another bufferfly!"

It went on like this for the next few minutes. Back a few lengths behind them, Legolas, Enguina, and Gimli rode side-by side. Legolas now was riding Brethil who had completely recovered as well, but was watching Enguina at the moment, and he heard her sigh.

Remembering her shunning of him two nights before, he had been keeping watch on her without allowing her to feel caged. He was so worried that she was going to do something completely ridiculous…or run away and never return. If she did the first, he could only hope to be about to prevent it; if the second…he would have to let her go. His heart tightened at the thought, and he knew for certain that he would not be around much longer after that if it was her choice. She had continued to reassure him in small ways about their upcoming wedding, and he knew as well that she was thinking about it as much as he had been. He had no idea what Aragorn had said to her that night, and he was not sure he ever wanted to know. There was no doubt that for the moment at least, whatever he had said had moved her to be a bit more open with him.

"I know what you are sighing about," he said, and when she looked at him, he had quite a twinkle in his eye.

"You cannot _possibly_ know," she replied, knowing that a tease was coming, "unless you have the hidden talent of reading minds."

"Only yours," he answered, raising an eyebrow.

"I think the lass was just sighing about going home. If I was her," Gimli stated loudly, "I'd still be asking you where that _house_ is you promised you were gonna build her."

Enguina raised _her_ eyebrows. "The dwarf has an excellent point."

"Being taken is a good excuse," Legolas complained, and then snorted, "and that was certainly _not_ what she was thinking."

"Oh really? Then what _was_ she thinking, elf?" Legolas looked over at Enguina and gave her a sly little smile. She tried to look away, but she could not for very long.

" _Oh no_ ," muttered Enguina.

" _If_ I am right, then you must give me something."

She groaned. " _Legolas…_ I am _not_ bargaining with you."

He completely ignored her. "If I tell you and I am right, you must let me do what you were thinking and you must tell Gimli and me a story of yourself for you keep far too many secrets."

She glared at him. "Fine," she said a bit waspishly. "If you cannot tell me what I was thinking, then you have to tell me every possible thing you can remember about the youngest years of your life and the dumbest things you ever did—"

"Done," he said immediately, and even Gimli's eyebrows shot up.

"I was not finished," she stated, staring at him evenly. " _And_ you have to tell me every last gory detail about your father."

"My father?" asked Legolas incredulously.

"Yes," she said. "You must tell me everything about him and leave nothing out, so I will have nothing to fear when he arrives in all his impending glory."

Legolas sighed, wincing. "Everything?"

"Everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are that worried?"

She blushed. "He is _not_ going to like me…and I will not ever be good enough for you, so—"

"Stop that," he interrupted. "You are perfect for me, in every way." His voice was firm and he would not let her look away. "And frankly, my dear, I could not care one bit what my father thinks of you."

"Legolas—" she began, her voice soft, even hurt.

"No," he continued, "I mean every word. I am going to marry you no matter what his personal feelings, because _my_ personal feelings are more important. But I will accept your terms, and I will tell you anything you wish to know." He paused and tilted his head. "It will matter little—you were sighing and wishing that you and I were not separated on horseback, and that I was still seated behind you so you could rest your head upon my shoulder…and that I would hold you again." He smiled, lifting his head. "I am correct, yes?"

Her deepening blush as she looked away was enough of an answer for both the elf and the dwarf. Legolas easily swung himself over onto Lómë's back, lighting gently behind the saddle, sliding one of Brethil's reins through one of the ties on Enguina's saddle, and slipped his arms around her. It was so sudden, she had not even known he was doing it until he was already there and startling her.

" _Legolas,_ " she chided in surprise when his hands folded around her waist.

"You made a bargain."

"You never keep yours."

He laughed. "Fine. I shall, due to my clear lack of holding up my side of all of the bargains we have ever made, promise that I will tell you anything about my father that you wish to know within reason. And _you_ ," he muttered in her ear, "still owe me a story."

She groaned. "Ugh, I thought you had forgotten." Her mind began racing for a story that would not cause her too much embarrassment before he could think of one that he would demand from her.

"I never forget a bargain, my Guin."

Sighing, she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "I both hate it and love it when you are right." He smiled as she closed her eyes, breathing him in. A sense of peace that she had not been feeling all day came over her and she felt more at ease. Night was drawing near. "My story shall be one of Lórien and Arwen…and Haldir…and his wife."

"Haldir?" Legolas said with a twinkle in his eye. "How does he fit in?"

"Let me tell it, please," she said dryly and he sighed impatiently. "When Arwen first came to Lórien, the _very_ first time, Haldir was…completely taken with her. He knew of her, of course, we all did, and when she arrived with her father, brothers, and Erumar, there was a great feast held in their honor. When Elrond and his sons departed Lórien, Erumar and Arwen remained, and it was then the three of us became good friends.

"Erumar, Arwen, and I would often spend evenings at our home; Haldir would stand in doorways nearby simply to watch us. At first," she laughed, "I thought he was spying on me! I told him off once for bothering us, but it was his embarrassment about anything that dealt with the subject of Arwen that made me notice it was fairly certain he was in love with her. Of course, he thought himself below her and could hardly speak with her when we were together, and he _never_ said two words to Erumar. He was part of the guard at the time, but the three of us were completely carefree.

"One afternoon, I had the most _brilliant_ idea—"

"There was a serious amount of sarcasm in that sentence," Legolas offered and she nodded.

"Indeed! I thought it would be a wonderful idea to follow along the Celebrant further than we had ever traveled before. Erumar and Arwen did not know Lórien as well as me and so I thought it would be nice to share the beauty of it with them. We were delighted to be out and enjoying the summer day when a storm came up."

Her voice grew hushed then as she continued, "It was _so_ fierce and we had been ill-prepared for it, but we took shelter as best we could. I felt awful about it, knowing that there was no way we could travel home in the weather such as it was, but Arwen, always the positive one, kept us all in good spirits. The storm appeared to be clearing, so the three of us set out for home. The river crossing was swollen from the deluge, but we managed reasonably well, in that case as well thanks to Arwen. There were many trees down and branches hanging from them, so we began snapping them off and dueling with each other." She laughed softly, remembering. "Oh, we were such _fools_. When we were about three or so miles from home, I very vividly remember a resounding _crack_.

"I remember laughing, half-turned towards Arwen as we were dueling along, and then that sound and I startled. I remember wondering what it was, and then there was a sharp pain in my back, a scream, darkness." She shook her head. "I do not remember if the scream was mine. The next thing I remember was a hand on my face, Arwen saying my name as I was lying face down in the mud. When I opened my eyes and looked at her, I was horrified; the left side of her head was slick with blood, and she was shaking me gently with hands that were coated with mud. I tried to sit up and was immediately sick, perhaps from the blood…I am still unsure."

"Or a head injury." He frowned at her. "I do not like where this story is going."

"You _asked_ me to tell a story," she said, "but you were not specific about which one I chose. It was difficult to gather my wits, to hear what she was saying, but I finally pieced it together: that an old tree had collapsed from the ferocity of the storm. Erumar had seen it too late and shoved both Arwen and myself free from it. The huge thing had fallen on her and she was trapped, unable to move. One of us would have to stay with her while the other went for help. Arwen thought perhaps I had hurt my head as I had been ill, but she was bleeding more heavily than I was, so I offered to go.

"When I came around the tree, I could see Erumar was half-buried beneath it from the waist, her body six inches deep in mud, laying facedown. She was unconscious, mud splattering her face, but Arwen had dug around her with her hands to clear a place so she could breathe. There would be no moving the tree at all or digging Erumar out; it would have been impossible for the two of us. As I turned to Arwen, I realized that she was more wounded than I thought as she also had a leg wound that was bleeding freely.

"I had no choice; I took off as fast as I could for Lórien. I ignored any aches and pains of my own, especially the one in my head. Erumar was in serious danger, and I had no idea how badly any of us were injured. It took me almost half an hour to arrive in Lórien, and I was lucky enough that my brother and the guard had only just returned. There had been several wounded in a lightning strike outside Caras Galadhon. When my brother saw me, he was furiously angry that I had been out in the storm, but when I explained briefly what had happened, they took to the woods. They followed my trail while Haldir forbid me to follow them and left me rather alone at the Healers."

"I bet that didn't last long," Gimli stated, but Enguina shook her head.

"He was so serious, I had no choice but to obey him. I had never seen him in such a state, and I was in no condition to rush back to Arwen's side. I found, upon their return, the price of my amazing journey. Myself, head injury, broken ribs, busted lips, a few broken fingers; I received the least bit of it. Arwen, a head injury, a massive leg wound, and a twisted ankle. Erumar, a broken hip, nearly crushed legs, a shoulder puncture wound, a broken foot and a fractured wrist." She shook her head. "I heard from Arwen that when they arrived, she was moved from Erumar's side and they spent over an hour digging her out and lifting the tree—it took every guard they had. When they finally lifted her out, she was coherent and in pain. Haldir carried her home." She smiled then, and he felt it. "And I did not know it then, but the only good thing that came of that day was that Erumar, in little over two years, would become my sister."

"And ya learned never to do anything so foolish ever again," interrupted Gimli. "Isn't that what you're supposed to end those stories with?"

Legolas shook his head. "Gimli, you know these ladies, with the exception of this Erumar, quite well. Does that sound like my Guin?"

Enguina nudged him in the stomach with her elbow and he winced, lowering his hand from her waist to his ribs. "Oh!" she cried out, half-turning in the saddle. "Legolas, I am _so_ sorry!"

He laughed softly. "I am fine, Guin," he began. "I was only teasing." She glared at him, and he immediately threw his hands up to block her blows towards his shoulders. "Stop, stop! I am sorry!"

"You had better be."

"I am," he said again and leaned forward, quickly kissing her temple. "You live life far too dangerously for my heart," he whispered, looking pointedly at her. "Please, can we be more careful in the future?"

She looked into his eyes and raised one of her eyebrows. "Are you careful, Legolas? Have you ever been careful? If I were to ask, how many stories of your exploits would I have to hear before we would reach the end of those where you had been wounded?"

He winced and frowned. "We were not speaking of me, you know, so I need not answer that question…at least not honestly. Though I will say there are possibly less than you." She snorted and he gave her a little smile. "Remember though that you can ask me anything you wish about my father and I _will_ answer those honestly." She opened her mouth to ask a question and he covered her lips with a finger. "Just not… _now_. Wait until we are alone," he told her gently. "I wish at least some stories to remain between us."

"All right," she said. Legolas glanced behind them and saw Éowyn still riding along quietly alone. He noticed she was watching them, but did not glance away when he met her eyes. Instead, she smiled; it was clear she was tired.

"Time for lunch, Éowyn?" he asked softly, and he slowed Lómë so they could draw alongside her. Enguina turned at the sound of his voice and looked at Éowyn herself.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a bit worried.

"Tired," she admitted. "I want to drive as you do to get home as quickly as possible, but…" She shook her head. "The contractions are continuing—"

" _Contractions_?!" Both Enguina and Legolas appeared completely alarmed and they shouted the word, causing everyone ahead of them to turn their horses about and return to find out what was going on. Faramir spurred Dwimorisen into a lope and was at her side before she could respond.

" _What_ contractions?" he asked urgently, drawing the grey up next to Windfola and reaching out to touch her arm, his eyes fixed on her stomach. "Are you all right? What is the matter? Are you in labor? What can I—"

"Faramir!" she said exasperatedly. "See what you two have done? I am _not_ in labor!"

"But they were yelling—"

"Yes, because they do not understand!" she complained, shaking Faramir off. " _Honestly_ , Faramir, I am perfectly all right." She rolled her eyes and looked back at Legolas and Enguina, all of them stopped now around the conversation. "Contractions are very frequent in the last month of pregnancy; _I am not in labor_."

Legolas appeared abashed and Enguina relieved. "Thank, Eru, I was worried!" she said, placing a hand on her heart. "We were afraid that you were not all right."

"Are they stronger?" asked Aragorn, but Éowyn shook her head, reaching out and laying a hand on Faramir's arm.

"No, they are the same, but sometimes they snatch my breath away. I am fine…I am simply _very_ ready for this baby to come."

"Not here!" cried Legolas, looking a bit panicked, and Faramir even had to chuckle.

"You could not be in better hands, Legolas. Aragorn knows what he is doing."

Éowyn squeezed his arm. "I am sorry I was…a bit catty."

He smiled. "I love you anyway." She laughed as he pressed his lips to her golden hair. "And I overreacted a bit."

"Even I would prefer to have her safe at home," Aragorn interrupted wryly. "Giving birth in a field in Ithilien is not my idea of a perfect birth."

Éowyn laughed. "As if it will be perfect."

"One can always hope, Éowyn."

"Well," Faramir sighed, "given the complete chaos of the first, I would be much relieved if everything was quiet this time around."

"We shall keep praying, of course," Arwen added, and then she nodded at Éowyn, "and I think it would be a good time to take rest. We could all use the stop, and I would like to see my husband's shoulder for a few moments."

"I'm sure the lad would like to _avoid_ that!" laughed Gimli, and Aragorn sighed, being the first to dismount. No one complained about the stop, which said more than anything.

"To be honest, I am glad she is willing; it is paining today, and she is right," Aragorn replied. "We have covered ten miles already today, and Éowyn should rest."

Enguina stretched her legs and then slid down from Lómë's back, Legolas there to half-catch her as she leaned into his arms. "Ugh…too many hours in the saddle," she groaned, and Lómë squealed and shoved her with his head, pressing her even more tightly into Legolas. "I am sorry, Lómë; it is not you, friend. I am simply not used to it."

"Care to take a brief walk with me before lunch?" Legolas whispered in her ear, and she looked up into his eager face. She could hardly respond in the negative, so she nodded, and after tying their horses they left the group. Everyone watched them go…and no one asked or said a word.

* * *

They walked along in silence for a little while, weaving in and out of the trees, Legolas leading a step or so ahead of her with her hand in his own. She looked about a very little, and then focused on that hand for a little while before she found her voice.

"It is so quiet out here," she whispered, her voice sad. "Sometimes I feel as though the world is so loud. I fell as though it will sweep me off my feet if I do not pay attention." Legolas remained quiet, but lifted her hand to his lips and then resumed swinging it gently as he led her onward. "Legolas, I…can we stop?" she asked him, tugging his hand.

He drew to a halt and turned to face her, and she could not meet his eyes. She fixed them on the scuffs on his boots, and he murmured, "Can we talk?"

She hesitated and held her shoulders in a shrugging motion. "I honestly do not know."

"Guin—"

"No, listen," she whispered, her voice soft, hurt. "Legolas, I…trust you. I _do_ …but you have to understand how difficult this is for me. No matter what anyone says this is not easy. I… _love_ you; I _do_. But sometimes the pain and fear overwhelm me and I am left holding nothing. I _want_ to walk away from this; I want to forget it—"

"Then why do you not?" he interrupted her softly. "Why not just let it go? Why not focus on living instead of the past and forget him? Forget it ever happened. Forget he even existed. Begin again, and start your life again…with _me_."

His words were pleading, a request for her to just pretend nothing ever happened.

"I…I do not think I can do that, Legolas," she whispered, her eyes closing. "He haunts every thought when I am quiet, alone. My skin crawls with the memory of his hands. I…how can I forget something so awful? How can I forget that you were there? That you saw?" She shook her head. "No, that is something I cannot do."

"Enguina, when I look at you, I do not see you lying on the ground in that clearing." She flinched suddenly at his words and he cupped his hand around her chin and cheek.

"Yes, you do," she groaned bitterly, "and how could you not?"

"Why can you not take me at my word?" he replied, frustrated. "I do _not_ see you there. In fact, I do not even think of him in connection with you. He is gone, dead. I want to spend my time with you enjoying your company, enjoying _you_. Why, in Heaven's name, would I wish to see him?"

Tears sprang to her eyes so suddenly she gasped. "I do not _wish_ to see him!" she cried, trying to pull away even as he tried to hold on. "I cannot escape! I try! _I try!_ " She pulled back again and he gripped one wrist in his hand, trying to hold her. "Let _go!_ "

"I cannot," he said, and the quietness of his voice brought her a moment's pause. "I love you too much. I cannot do what I did in Henneth Annûn, and you and I must confront this somehow, Guin." His face was full of pain. "We _must_."

" _Please…_ " she begged, tears spilling over. She hated herself for them falling, but she could not stop them. " _Please…not now…_ "

" _When_?" he said, frustration evident. "Enguina, what…how can I help you? When I try to speak of this, you grow distant, upset. I _want_ to help you; I want to be at your side."

"You…you are," she gasped, and the hand that had been trying to push him away tangled long nails in his tunic-front. "You are here, where I need you. And I…I _need_ you…so _desperately_ , Legolas." Her breath caught on the last words.

He did not know what else to do, where else to turn. How could he do anything else but lean forward slowly and take her gently in his arms? She was _shattering_ …he could see it. How much longer before she was not there to hold? How in the world could he talk to her, make her see? How could he reach her within this depression and heartache? How could he break Bragolaur's hold on her heart?

That was what this was. He recognized it now for the truth of it. No matter what Enguina said about not loving Bragolaur, about his hands on her, his lips…she blamed herself for what had happened. He owned a piece of her, as she had said, in a way he could never understand. He, who had never given himself to another living being, could not understand the sacrifice, could not understand what he had taken from her. She blamed herself for Bragolaur's loss of control; his body against hers, pressing himself to her, forcing himself inside her. The way her hands, every once in a while traveled down to her abdomen without her knowledge—when she did not realize she was gripping her body in phantom pain, in memory of him. And he, Legolas, had promised that the fear she had been dreaming of all this time would never own her…and it _had_. He had not known what it was at the time, but it had come and taken her, just as she thought it would.

And perhaps _that_ was the truth of it: he had asked her to trust him…and he had failed her. No, he had not broken her heart, but the evil had come and snatched her right out of his arms…she did not feel safe with him. She _could_ not…even if she said the words aloud; he knew she did not believe them. How could she?

The thought broke his heart more than any words ever could.


	31. Chapter 31

_Home._ The word settled into Arwen's thoughts and for just a moment, she was at peace with it.

Then the world came flooding back in. The stable on the sixth level was quiet. It was _far_ too quiet with the return of so many travelers; yet, it was the dead of night, and they were more than a bit weary. What bothered her was not the weariness as she watched the faces around her…it was the despair. It was eating them alive; she could feel it tearing at her soul as she eyed the looks of Legolas and Enguina. It had made the last few hours of the journey nearly intolerable for her.

There was something…something that she _needed_ to do. Just watching Enguina made her want to draw her aside and have a heart conversation. They needed to have one; she could _feel_ the storm brewing and there would be no stopping it. She had to step in; she had to do it. But was tonight the night? Was tonight the time to speak with Enguina when they had only just arrived home?

 _Better to let her sleep, Father. Better to let her find rest tonight and confront the demons during the light of day._ Arwen frowned and sighed as she scratched Asfaloth's neck. Everyone around her continued to take care of their horses, and she suddenly felt so tired, so drained from this journey; she had not felt this way in a few months, and she could not tell if it was simply emotional or if it was that she was so physically tired, and at the moment her knee was paining her. But one thing was certain: she wanted her bed…and she wanted Aragorn beside her.

She felt his fingers on her arm. "I have said our good nights," he told her gently, and as she met his eyes she could see in them that he had heard her silent plea. "The rest of our companions are going to be a little while longer, and we shall see them for breakfast in the morning hours. Take my arm, _melda_ , and let us take some long needed rest."

It did not take them but a few moments to be out the door. The two of them walked, alone, up the passage to the seventh level and were immediately met by Captain Mennev and Lieutenant Hildanir who grinned, quite happy to see them.

"My Lord and Lady!" cried Mennev, as Hildanir bowed to them. "It is so good that you are returned! And the Prince?"

"Safe," Aragorn replied with a smile, "thank Ilúvatar. We are grateful to be home, though very… _very_ tired."

Mennev laughed. "I'm sure the warmth of a bed after nights of sleeping under the stars would make the evening much nicer as well."

"The others returned with you, yes, my Lord?" asked Hildanir, glancing behind them. "Are they still at the stalls?"

"Yes, they will be a few moments yet. If you wait here, you can greet them."

Arwen smiled at them both. "And what of Minas Tirith? Has everything been all right?"

"Quiet, my Lady," Hildanir replied. "We have been waiting for word of you."

"The Council will be delighted to learn of your return," added Mennev.

"Tomorrow will be soon enough," added Aragorn softly and the man laughed again.

"That's the truth! Take some rest; I am sure the announcement can wait until morning."

Arwen smiled, keeping her hand tightly on Aragorn's arm. "We are grateful for your generosity," she told him and Mennev bowed. "It is good to be home, Captain. Sleep well."

"And you, my Lady, my Lord." The two men bowed again and stepped back, allowing them to pass by and continue towards the King's House.

"By Heaven," Arwen whispered as they stepped onto the porch and her eyes lit on the gardens, "I forgot how beautiful they were by moonlight."

Aragorn smiled and laid his hand upon hers as he opened the door of their home. "Indeed; their scent is the sign of homecoming, is it not? It reminds me of Rivendell."

Arwen nodded as she followed him inside. "Yes, I remember the scent as well as you do; I remember it among the birches when I would walk there, or ride my horse along the narrow bridges and waterfalls." She sighed softly when the door closed and tugged him to a stop, turning him toward her and laying her hands on his arms.

"Your sigh…" he said gently, "you are tired."

"True," she agreed honestly, "and your shoulder aches now more than it has this entire journey." One of his eyebrows rose.

"Also true. One cannot escape the eyes of an eagle."

"Mmm," she murmured, leaning into him easily, but careful on his shoulder. "How do you always know, beloved? Was it because you knew what I was thinking? Or was it something you felt through our connection?"

He wound several strands of her hair around his fingers as he looked in her eyes. "These past several days something has been wearing on you. You have not been sleeping well." She hesitated, and then frowned, but he was willing to wait her out. "Shall we change as we talk?"

She tilted her head. "That much faster to bed?"

He laid their saddle bags upon the table and took her hand, towing her towards their bedroom. "Indeed! Why wait? We could be nearly ready for sleep."

She tugged him to a stop inside their bedroom door; neither of them bothered to look about, everything could stay as it was until the morning. Only then would Arwen think of the cleaning the House needed from nearly a month of being away and leaving in such a state of disarray. Instead, she gave him her complete attention.

"I stopped you before because I was waiting to _kiss_ you," she whispered low, leaning in close to him again. She closed the little bit of distance that was left as he slipped his arm around her waist and she pressed her lips to his. She felt such a surge of relief that she would never have been able to describe it. It was a _good_ kiss…it made her feel warm down to her toes.

They undressed and, washing their hands and faces from a long day of traveling, then prepared the bed. Arwen stood near it, staring at Aragorn lifting his tunic over his wounded shoulder. It was still wrapped, and it was clearly hurting more now than it had been all day.

"How is your shoulder?" she asked, watching him wipe his hands and face on a towel.

He nodded. "All right. It could use some rest, just as the body it is attached to."

"Should I—"

"Tomorrow," he interrupted, not wishing to go far from the subject she had brought up.

She wrapped her arms about herself, sighing. "You are right, of course," she said softly. "I have…had a lot on my mind these past few days."

"Dreams?"

She tilted her head. "Yes…and no."

"What I am thinking," he asked turning back towards her, the light reflecting on his face from the lit candles near their bed, "or something different?"

"Yes," she admitted, looking down, "but I am worried as well as dreaming. Not all of my dreams have us in them…some of them play host to Enguina. I am…more worried about her than I can say."

"Premonitions?"

"I wish I knew," she said, but he continued to eye her, waiting for her to tell the truth. "Aragorn," she groaned, "I _am_ serious."

"Oh, I believe you are serious, darling," he said softly, reaching across the bed and brushing a finger beneath her chin. "Seriously not telling the truth."

She sighed loudly. "I…perhaps they _are_ premonitions, as the dreams before our journey. I do not know what to think. I am _worried_."

He took her arms and drew her down to the bed to sit beside him. "About Enguina? Legolas? Or them both collectively, as one unit?"

"Mostly Enguina. I cannot get her out of my mind. She has been so quiet these last few days, and Legolas has not been much better." She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. "When he came to us the other night—"

Aragorn's face turned grim though she could not see it. "He was so distraught he could not think straight."

"I had never seen him more upset," she whispered. "He loves her so much and for her to shove him away like that…that was so awful. I was glad you volunteered to speak with her. I may have said some not nice things."

He hugged her tighter. "I will admit I was not at my most kind. The dead of night and seeing Legolas like that set my teeth on edge." He shook his head; he refused to mention the falls and how close Enguina had been. That had worried him, but he had easily talked her away from such foolishness. She would be all right, as long as Legolas was able to be with her. He knew that it was not going to be easy…things like this never were. "And you? You had another dream…and you did not wake me?"

"I am exhausted, Aragorn," she replied, her eyes closed. "Can we lie down?"

He paused, but easily did what she asked, reaching out to snuff out the candle beside their bed. She could more easily hide from him in the dark, and he knew that was another reason aside from her weariness. He, however, would not back down and let her go. "Why did you not wake me?"

He heard her let out a breath. "Because I should not be having them at all," she said softly. "I should have this settled in my heart but…I do not." His fingers combed gently through her hair as she pressed herself against him. She waited for him to refute her, but he did not, and she lifted her hand and laid it in the center of his chest, pressing her fingertips to his skin at the break in the tunic. "It seems as though my heart is still struggling to… _accept_. But that is foolish; we accepted this weeks ago. I _have_ been living, yes?" Her voice was a soft plea; she was desperate for him to agree, even if it was a lie. "Tell me I have been living, Aragorn."

"Of course you have; we both have," he told her gently. "We have been surviving on Ilúvatar's strength, trusting Him for each day, each moment—"

"Sometimes every breath," she said, and he could almost _feel_ her chest tighten with the pain in her voice.

"And we will continue," he agreed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Yes?"

"I…I _do_ trust him," she whispered into his throat. "I cannot understand him, but I trust him." "And I wish Enguina would realize that she needs Legolas as much as I need you."

He smiled, and though he knew it would never be easy, he was never going to let this crush them, beat them down forever. "We will not be shaken, Arwen."

Her throat too thick to reply, she simply nodded. As long as she could fall into her beloved's arms, everything _would_ be all right; even when she would never understand.

* * *

Enguina's hand in his own, Legolas walked at her side as they, too, emerged from the tunnel into the moonlight on the seventh level of Minas Tirith. Not for the first time, Legolas noticed the utter beauty of it, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. He wondered for a moment if she could see it, and then he decided he would not ask. She eyed him, but said nothing as her fingers tightened in his hand.

On the other side of him walked Faramir, holding Éowyn's arm as she carried Annî, who was fast asleep in her arms. Faramir had asked to carry her, but Éowyn told him she had the girl, even though she seemed as though she herself were about to collapse. The exhaustion in the group was evident; the journey had taken its toll on each of them in their own way. Even Gimli walked quietly along, ready for sleep. Mennev and Hildanir headed back to their posts; they had followed them from the stable and returned to their duties.

"It _is_ nice to be home," sighed Éowyn. "I _was_ hoping to be saying that about Ithilien at this time." Faramir looked at her guiltily.

"Well, I cannot say we did not try…and I _can_ say that I am glad that none of you were there when the attack was made."

"Whaddya mean?" hollered Gimli suddenly, raising his fists and glaring at Faramir. "We could've helped! Neither of you would've been taken and everything would've been fine!"

"I meant the _ladies_ , Gimli," grumbled Faramir, holding up his hands in peace. "Not _you._ "

"I wish I _had_ been there," sighed Éowyn. "At least there would have been five of us. Much better odds."

Faramir stared at her. "You? _Fighting_ at eight months pregnant?! I think _not,_ Éowyn!"

"Do not argue," Legolas said softly as Éowyn lifted her chin, ready for a defiant reply. "Faramir would have been so distracted worrying about you, he probably would have been dead. And I, for one, was thinking that perhaps something good _did_ come of this journey. I am wondering if we did find something." They all looked over at him, even Enguina, who had clearly been preoccupied with her own thoughts.

"Did we?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I think so. We saw many nice places, but there was only one that caught our most serious attention." He smiled at her. "I am certain that I can find it again after we are wed. I think…it _would_ make a good place for a home."

Her eyes brightened, one of the few times that day. "Really? The glade? Do you really think so?" He could tell that she wanted it to be true. "I thought you did not like it."

"Like it?" he said, as they all drew to a halt outside the guesthouse. He reached up and ran a hand along her face, letting his fingers rest against her neck. "I think it is perfect…even if we did mourn a Ranger there. I could see our future there. Can you?"

For a moment, she forgot about everything and everyone else and focused on his words. She thought of that glade, of lying in the grass with him there, laughing. She thought of the river that flowed nearby, the trees that their children would grow up between, the rich grass that their horses could feed on, the quietness they could be part of. Would Ilúvatar protect them there? She shied from that question, unable to answer it when she felt so unprotected now. Instead, she smiled and leaned into him, resting herself against him and laying her head upon his chest.

"I can, Legolas. It would be…almost perfect." He kissed the top of her head, and refused to ruin the moment by asking what she meant.

"I suppose we should be heading off to bed," laughed Gimli, and Legolas loosened his grip on Enguina so they could say their goodnights. Éowyn one-arm hugged Enguina, as did Faramir. Gimli grinned at her but did not move to hug her as Legolas remained standing at Enguina's side—perhaps he thought she would not want him to, she was not sure. But the dwarf hesitated when Legolas did not begin to follow him. Enguina's fingers clung tightly to Legolas's hand.

Faramir suddenly lunged toward Legolas, laughing as he looped an arm around the elf's neck and tugged him towards the street. "Come now, Legolas!" he teased. "You have but two weeks to wait! You can bear one night or two without her!" Her grip on his hand broke as Faramir began tugging him down the street. "Come now, come on!"

Legolas looked back to Enguina, unsure, helpless to fight Faramir's teasing pull. Éowyn laughed tiredly at his antics as she shifted Annî in her arms. "They are very silly," she said. "As if either of you were negligent of propriety." She rolled her eyes. "If anything, it would be _Faramir_ doing something improper, not _Legolas_. Legolas is always proper."

Enguina stared after him, feeling all the warmth sucked out of her body. Was it possible to go from depressed to downright miserable in five seconds? She wanted to call him back and beg him to remain right in front of them. She wanted to curse and rage at Faramir and tell him what a fool he was and why would he take Legolas away and what was the matter with him? And Éowyn making a comment about propriety! What did propriety matter when she was in this state? How could they not know how _changed_ she was? It took everything within her not to reach her hands out to him, not to run to him as fast as she could and beg him to stay.

 _Stay…_ _ **god**_ _, please, stay…_ How could she be alone? How would she make it?

"Yes, he is," she whispered softly, and how she kept her voice steady she would never know.

"Enguina, are you all right?" Éowyn asked gently, touching her arm, noticing how still she had become.

 _No! Can you not see?!_ "Fine, Éowyn," she said, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "I will be fine."

She smiled at her and squeezed her arm. "Do not worry; it is only two weeks before you will _never_ be alone!" she laughed. "And then there will be nights you wish you were when you are so irritated with him that you want him to go away for five minutes of peace. I am sure it is difficult to be parted when so much has happened, but it will do you both good to get some rest."

 _Is rest even possible?_ "I… _do_ need rest," she replied softly. "As do you, Éowyn. Go, take your daughter home and sleep."

She smiled, adjusting Annî in her arms again. "Sleep well, friend. We will see you at the King's House in the morning."

"Good night," she said, and turned away into the guesthouse.

* * *

Once inside, Enguina fell back against the door, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. She stared into the darkness of the house and remained silent, standing there for Heaven-only-knew how long. Her heart beat was rapid, but she tried to breathe normally, desperate to return to a state of being that felt it was all right to be alone. _Yes…_ _ **that**_ _is going to happen, Enguina._ The moment she opened her eyes, the darkness consumed her, and she shoved herself forward to the hearth where she worked for nearly ten minutes to stop her hands from shaking long enough to light a fire within. When it was lit, she clutched the stone around the hearth and dropped her forehead to her hands.

"Eru…" she whispered, and it was so quiet she was not even sure she was speaking aloud. "Eru, where are you? Where _are_ you in this complete mess? Why have you not come to rescue me? Why have you not given me a way out? Why have you not stepped in and shown me the way of your love? I do not see you as Legolas sees you, as a strong tower, a bulwark of guidance; as Arwen sees you, as a light in the darkness, a beacon of hope; or as Aragorn sees you, as a loving father, who never gives us more than we can take. This is beyond me, Ilúvatar…beyond me, further than my trust in you can go. How can you ask me to depend on you, when I am traveling blind? When all I see before me is darkness? Legolas tries to be my light, and yet I cannot follow him to morning…I get lost in the dark along the way."

She felt tears on her face and she wiped them angrily away. "What do you _want_ from me? Have I not trusted you far enough? When you told me to go to Minas Tirith and see Arwen before I traveled to the Havens, I followed you. When you told me to give Legolas my heart, I did it when you asked me to trust you. When Legolas asked me to marry him, I agreed, knowing that it was your will for me to choose him and live forever with him. And now…now what is it you are asking me to do? You are asking me to cope with fear, to look for you in the darkness where I cannot see you, to trust when there is nothing left to hold me up, to step out of the fear and find you. _How_? I ask you, Ilúvatar, _how?_ It…it is just too much. _You are asking too much._ And I am _so tired_ of this agony I feel, these dreams that haunt me, the feel of _him_. I want it to end. _It is just too much_."

Enguina shoved herself to her feet and stared into the fire, tightening her arms across her chest. Even as she stood there, she felt the exhaustion taking her. At least her hands had stopped shaking, but she felt worse than she had several hours ago, even several minutes. She wanted to cry out for Legolas as she left the fire and headed towards her bedroom to dress in her nightclothes, but she could not. Yanking the tunic over her head, her ribs pained, but she ignored them. Removing the undergarments she wore, she stopped dead when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, light reflected from the window.

Immediately, she lit a candle and stopped to really look. Her face was full of sadness, the set of her shoulders low and tired. Crisscrossing her upper body were bruises and several lines of scars across her stomach and ribs—where he had pressed his knife as he held her hip to enter her, his attempted thrusting causing the knife to slice into her over and over again. She felt bile rising up in her throat as she stood there, eyeing bruise after bruise lining her breasts and collarbone along with rows of red welts where his teeth had pinched her. Her fingers just brushed one of the scars and she nearly vomited, the moment coming back immediately to her mind. Turning quickly, she yanked down the rest of her clothes and prepared for bed.

No, calling for Legolas would simply not do. It would do nothing to help now, and she had no intention of going to him and begging him to come and sit by her bed when he had slept less than her the last few nights. He needed rest as well…and she wanted to keep the very little bit of pride she had left. She would not beg.

And she was determined to make it through tonight even if it killed her.

* * *

Legolas had gone home with Gimli, just as Faramir had suggested, and had prepared for bed, just as _Gimli_ had suggested. But lying on his back, facing the ceiling and thinking of the dwarf's words was _not_ easing him to the rest he wanted. In fact, he was quite sure that he wanted something much more desperately than he wanted rest.

He had spoken with Gimli about worrying for Enguina. The last thing in all of Middle-Earth that he had wanted to do tonight, their first night home, was leave her alone in the guesthouse, completely unattended. Yes, should she have been sleeping on her own? Certainly! But knowing if she was capable of that was much less clear. Faramir and Éowyn had no idea the depth of the pain Enguina was carrying, and so they would see what he was doing as something inappropriate, but he wanted to be at her side, to be holding her as she slept. Yes! Even sharing her bed if necessary!

And that was Legolas's response to Gimli's question: was it appropriate for him to be there. It was not, of course it was not! But how could he do anything else? She was in pain; her dreams were dark. What if she hurt herself? What if she left and did not say goodbye? Gimli had asked if Legolas really thought she would do something like that. How could he know? The whole world had been turned upside-down!

He could not possibly stay in this bed any longer without knowing if she was all right. Rolling out from under the covers, he yanked on his boots and hurried out of his room, down the hall and out into the night. There would be no sleep for him at all until he could assure himself that she was all right. It took only minutes for him to arrive at her front door; thankfully, there was no one in sight, not even a guard. This gave him relief, as he did not want someone to question why he was on her doorstep at this hour of the morning. Leaning into the front door, he listened carefully for any strange sounds or crying. He heard nothing…and realized there was no way that was going to be good enough.

Legolas resigned himself to what he was going to do. There was no way around it; he needed to be inside, to see her for himself. Deftly, he began working on the lock and within moments it was open. He slipped inside, making no noise at all as he passed the smoldering fire and carefully sneaked his way down the long hallway to her bedroom. Coming to a stop in her hallway at the threshold to the bedroom, he hesitated and looked in.

 _Ah, damn it to Utunmo…_ Unable to see her fully, he threw caution to the wind and stepped into the room, coming to stop at the foot of her bed. If he woke her, well, she would throw a fit and probably go crazy to see him standing over her in this creepy manner. She appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully, lying on her side, her golden hair lit by the moonlight, her breathing smooth. Enguina was asleep…and here, he had been panicking for her. She was _fine_ …sleeping peacefully…and she did not need _him_ to do it. The thought both delighted him and upset him; delight, because it meant that she was not having a nightmare, and upset, because he wanted to provide his comfort. The delight outweighed the sadness of being unable to provide for her.

 _I should go_. He wanted to stay at her side, but she had not asked him to stay and contradicted Faramir and it _was_ inappropriate for him to do so, close to the wedding or no. Even though he wanted to stay with her for the rest of the night, he would leave. She was sleeping peacefully. He looked up at the ceiling and said a silent prayer for her and over her for protection and strength and sweet dreams for the evening. Slowly, he turned to make his way out, hoping that when he came in the morning, she would have had a good rest and be feeling a bit more ready to take on the day.

It was hard to leave her, but he managed to force himself outside. Once again, he had to trust Ilúvatar to take care of her, to remain beside her when he could not. He stalled on the front porch, debating whether he should sleep right there on her doorstep, simply in case something went terribly wrong. But no, he could not do that either. So, he closed his eyes as he slowly made his way back to the house where he hoped he would actually find some rest.

* * *

Feeling the sheets shift, Aragorn knew immediately that Arwen was awake. Once asleep, she did not often move unless she snuggled closer to him or was dreaming. Tightening his arm around her waist, he propped himself up on one elbow, still half-asleep, ignoring the ache as his shoulder protested angrily about the abuse it was taking from him leaning on it.

"Is everything all right?" he asked softly, and she sighed and turned into him, her eyes looking quite tired. She fingered his chin.

"I was trying not to wake you. I woke, suddenly…for no reason at all…and I cannot figure out how to fall asleep again," she said a bit miserably.

He smiled. "Have you tried counting sheep?"

"I tried counting everything," she replied dryly, "even the hairs in your beard. It has not worked."

"Were you dreaming?" he asked softly, a bit of worry behind his voice, but she shook her head.

"No…this was just… _sudden_. I am simply awake."

He dragged his fingers slowly across her forehead and her right eyebrow and eyelid. "You look tired."

"I may look it, and my eyes may close, but I do not _feel_ it." She sighed. "Something is…something, somewhere, is not right. I feel strange."

"Strange?"

"Something is not right," she reiterated, but she tickled his beard again. "I do not want to keep you awake; perhaps I will just take a walk about the gardens and return in a few minutes. Perhaps it will soothe my racing heart and then I will sleep."

He noticed that her heart _was_ racing. "I will come with—"

"No," she said with a laugh. " _Please_ , rest, Aragorn…you need it, and I am not blind to how much your wound is paining you." She kissed him gently and sat up, keeping the sheet over him. "Beside that, I will be back in moments. There is no reason for you to get up."

"Arwen," he said, catching her arm as she slipped from the bed, "why is your heart racing?"

She shook her head. "I do not know…I just…something is not quite right. _Somewhere_ , and it is keeping me awake. Do not worry; short trip to the gardens and I will be back. Perhaps I just need a walk in the moonlight."

"Could it be Enguina?"

She frowned. "It could be, but I am sure Legolas is still at her side, even sleeping in a chair nearby. I do not think thoughts of Enguina are keeping me awake." She smiled at him. "I really will be right back you know."

"I know."

"And you do not have to worry."

"I know."

"And you can go back to sleep, as I am certain I will wake you the moment I come back."

"I know."

She leaned down and swiftly kissed him. "I will be back presently," she told him. "I love you."

He sighed, trying not to cling to her. "All right." She watched his eyes close and he laid his head immediately back upon the pillow. "If you need me, please—"

"I will."

"And I love you."

* * *

 _Darkness. Pain. Aching hands filled with blood. Aching limbs stretched to their limit. Her legs were held in his hands, and then pressed to the ground, extended and bent at an angle that was excruciating, terribly unpleasant. Her head was pounding; something wet trickled down from her forehead into her hair, sweat or blood she did not know, but she kept her eyes tightly closed, her face a grimace of pain and her lips so clenched they were white with the strain. Her nostrils flared with the attempt to take in more air, but there was a struggle between her brain and her body—clench the mouth closed or open it for life-giving oxygen?_

 _A hand twisted on her breast, and she lost control of the ability to keep her mouth closed, crying out in pain. There was no pleasure in this—how could there be? This was for his gratification and his alone. He did not care if she writhed and wriggled beneath him; he did not care if she was in pain. His only thought was for his own pleasure, to take from her and give to himself. Her skin was pinched between his teeth, over and over, and every time she tried to pull away, pain speared through her hands and down her arms. His fingers crushed her hip between them. Her jaw ached under the pressure from the hand he had clamped over her mouth._

 _"Look at me."_

 _The command was whispered in her ear, but harsh, nasty in that ugly voice he used when he made a demand. She could not reply; she had no voice. She was so weak that her head swam, but there was no way she could open her eyes. He released her chin and sneered down at her._

 _"I want you to look in my eyes as I enter you, fair love._ _ **Look**_ _in my eyes."_

 _She blinked, but there was no way she would ever look in his eyes; it was impossible. He growled at her, taking the knife to her stomach where it began to dig in as she tried to pull back, fright and pain driving her._

 _"Hold very still, and this will not hurt so much."_

 _She knew what was coming; she knew that pain—had experienced it in every nightmare for nearly fifty years. She felt his hips thrust forward and then she was crying out as he made several attempts to thrust into her. The pressure from his body, his hips bearing down on her as he held her still between his knees and hands, keeping her tightly pushed against the ground made her want to retch. Pain seared through her, and there was screaming that was not only hers…and she opened her eyes…and looked into his face and…_

 _Legolas? No! It was impossible! Impossible!_

 _She blinked, screaming as the pain tore through her as he pushed against her, hollering about taking it all, and she opened her eyes again, seeing Legolas's face above her, Legolas's head leaned back with passion, and she could only lie there, screaming into the night—_

Enguina was retching before she even hit the floor, tangled in the covers, and shaking like a leaf. She had no presence of mind to catch herself, hitting her head and shoulder and then hip off the floor, her elbow digging nastily into her smarting ribs. She rolled over, still tangled, and retched again, barely able to hold her head up off the ground.

Freedom…she needed it _now._ Scratching and clawing at the blankets to release herself, gasping, choking on fear and desperation. _OutOutOUT!_ The blanket tore and she rolled and thrashed and stumbled to her knees, crashing headlong into her dresser.

 _Bang! SMASH!_ The mirror atop the chest of drawers hit the wall and tumbled forward, hitting her on the back and smashing against the ground around her. She crawled forward, unable to feel the cuts to her hands and feet as she made her way blindly out of the room, whacking the doorframe and the opposite wall outside the hall before she broke down into tears as she tried to drag herself to her feet. The darkness was closing in; the shadows were snatching at her clothes, almost as though the guesthouse was alive as she threw herself down the hallway, knocking into the walls and doorframes.

She stumbled through the kitchen, running into the table as she cursed and sobbed, desperate now to be free from the dream. The hands, the thrusting, the knife, the screaming, _that face! His_ face! Oh, it could not be borne! _Unbearable!_ He would _never…he would never do that to her!_ She would run! _Run and run and run until she could not breathe or the memories faded…_ If she ran it could not catch her! It would not find her, get her; she would _make_ it stop! _Get out of the house! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!_

Weeping and stumbling, she fell into the door, hands fumbling around the lock, nails snagging along wood and metal as her hands shook so terribly. Finally, her weight against the door dumped her out into the street—

And she _ran_.


	32. Chapter 32

The night was still as death when Arwen walked barefoot and silent past the Tower of Ecthelion. She did not enter it, nor did she intend to enter the gardens either. She simply felt the need to walk and for an odd reason she could not identify, be alone. There were no guards about and no breeze at all; the stillness chilled her. She had been right: _something_ wasnotright. And even though she had been desperate for Aragorn earlier, now she wanted to be alone? Why? Shaking her head ruefully, she thought about how foolish that was. _Father…what is your purpose here? Why can I not take rest?_ Her eyes were heavy and she needed to sleep. _What is it that you want me to see? Why am I out here?_

It was only moments after she had lowered her head that she heard light footfalls. Looking about intently caused her eyes to fall on a figure not far from her that was running past the gardens. Golden-hair blown back, hands pressed to her face, there was no doubt it was Enguina.

"Enguina?" she called, but it did not even slow the older elf, and she was _running_. She passed by at a completely abnormal speed just out of arm's reach; there was no way Enguina would have simply run past her without a single word. Distracted by her friend, she immediately looked back for Legolas to be chasing her, knowing he _must_ be somewhere nearby, but he was nowhere to be seen. That surprised her even more than Enguina running, but she followed the elf out past the edge of the garden, calling for her again. There was still no response.

Worried now, Arwen broke to a quick, limping jog, her knee jarring with the same ache it had been for nearly two weeks now. She called her yet again, "Enguina!"

The elf did not even slow down, and what Arwen had thought was simply her brushing the hair from her face was hands clutching; Enguina was sobbing. Arwen could hear the cries as Enguina hurried along, running full-tilt, flat-out towards the entrance to the tunnel that traveled along below the Embrasure. Worried that she might be heading for the stable and then possibly outward and onward, Arwen picked up the pace so she could catch her before she did anything foolish. She had always been a bit faster than the older elf, so she was assured of catching her, the knee injury notwithstanding.

There came a moment, somewhere between racing after Enguina and assuming that she would catch her, when she realized that Enguina was not headed for the stable. When Enguina swerved to avoid the tunnel completely, Arwen's heart leaped into her throat.

 _"Enguina!"_ she screamed, but the blonde did not even slow down, never mind stop. " _ **Enguina!**_ " Arwen screamed again and poured on speed, shoving aside the injury, fueled by adrenaline. _Oh Father, help me! Help me catch her! Ohgodno!_ Throwing every last bit of herself into the effort, Arwen reached for her. As Enguina neared the edge of the Embrasure, their bare feet pounding upon the stone, one behind the other, her hands fell away from her face. Reaching forward, she caught the lip of the stonework in her hands and lunged, throwing one foot onto the nearest bulwark and lifting herself off the ground.

Snatching, grabbing, even clawing, Arwen pounced forward, a cry on her lips, her hands meeting together around Enguina's midsection as the older elf tried to drop through the stones. By planting her feet, Arwen was _just_ able to yank her back, dragging the blonde through and falling on her back onto the stones, Enguina still in her arms. Arwen's breath left in a rush, Enguina crushing it out of her, and she rolled her off, gasping for air as Enguina tumbled to the side, half-laying on the ground, her back to Arwen. She was still crying, but nowhere near as hard as she had been. She tried to roll forward, to move away, but she could not get anywhere; Arwen held a clump of her shirt in her hand.

Enguina heard her breathing, felt her own heart racing, and knew she had been running. She glanced up and noticed the stone wall of the Embrasure, felt it under her hand, her feet…and knew exactly what she had been about to do. Tears poured down her face as she rested her head in one of her hands; as awful as the fall would have been, at least all of it would have been over. No more nightmares…no more seeing Legolas's face on Bragolaur's body! Her stomach nearly rebelled, but she controlled herself.

" _Oh my god…_ " She heard the words from behind her, and felt herself being pushed to a sitting position against the same wall she had been trying to climb. There, before her, sat a horrified-looking Arwen. She glanced back into that face and could not hold the gaze. Her whole body was trembling, from the exertion, from the nightmare…she had no idea.

" _Ilúvatar in Heaven, what were you thinking?"_ Arwen choked out, tears pouring down her own face. She was half-sitting, leaning on her hands to hold herself upright, her legs trembling. "What were you _thinking?_ _Do you realize what you just did?_ What were you _doing_? _Are you out of your mind?_ "

Unable to answer around the lump in her throat, Enguina simply sat, her head leaned back against the stonework, her shaking hand holding her forehead. She did not want to tell the truth; she did not want to answer when she knew that the answer to all of those questions would be _yes_. But she found her voice; she was angry at the sight of Arwen's tears—what was _she_ upset about? Had she had this nightmare? Was she living it? Did she have something unbearable haunting her every step? _No…no, no, and no!_

"Leave me _be_ , Arwen," she growled, low and hurtful, trying to choke the words out around the tears. She wanted to be alone now. There was nothing that could possibly comfort her; not after a dream like this.

"I will _not_ ," Arwen replied, staring at her as she tried to wipe her eyes. "Is _that_ what you want? Is that what you have wanted all this time? To end your life? To seek a fall to your death?" Her voice broke off as she cried, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment, trying to collect herself. "You want to _die?_ You _want_ that? _You want to be dead_?"

Fire and pain roared through Enguina's head and she released it through her mouth. " _ **I want this to END!**_ " she snarled, so upset that she could hardly think straight. " _I want him to_ _ **stop**_ _! I want him out of my head! I cannot take it anymore!_ " She lost herself to tears, pulling her own hair. " _This will make it stop! It_ _ **will**_ _make it stop!_ "

"No, _you_ need to make it stop!" Arwen said seriously, wiping her tears away and forcing herself to sit up straight, leaning toward her. " _You_ need to say when it has been enough; _you_ need to make it end!"

"' _I_ need to? _I need to?'_ What are you even saying? Do you have any idea—" she cut off and glared at Arwen. "You have no _idea_ what my dreams are like! It has to stop! _This has to stop_!"

"Then _stop_ it!" Arwen cried. "You are letting Bragolaur ruin _everything_!"

"I am _letting_ —?"

"Do not let him ruin everything you have worked so hard for! _Legolas, this new life you built!_ Do these things not matter to you?! _Make_ him stop!" Enguina fought the trembling and flung herself to her feet and tried to storm away, but it was Arwen's voice that called her back as she clambered to her feet uncomfortably. "Do _not_ walk away from me, Enguina! This conversation is _not_ over."

It was not a request, and fury incased her heart, for protection.

" _Over_?" she growled. She could have walked away, but instead found herself turning back around and stalking up to the younger elf. "It _is_ over. What do you think, that this is a _choice?_ That I can simply tell the dreams to go away and they will? This is _not_ a _choice_ , Arwen! It never has been!"

"It _has_ to be," Arwen replied dully, and Enguina's eyes narrowed even more. "You must _make_ it a choice. You have to say _no_ to Bragolaur and _beat_ him back. You _must_ choose Legolas! You must choose _life!_ "

Enguina stopped directly in front of her, arms crossed defensively as she sneered at her. "I cannot simply make a choice and end this! I have tried _everything!_ I have tried _everything_ to make it stop. You have no idea what this is like! _There is no choice! Do not tell me what to do!_ "

" _Someone needs to_ ," she whispered back fervently.

Enguina stared at her. "Arwen, what the _hell_ — _what is the matter with you_?" Her eyes began to tear again. " _Why are you_ _attacking me?!_ "

"I am not _attacking_ you," she replied, her voice low, "I am _confronting_ you. This has gone on far too long, and you are hurting yourself and _everyone_ around you. Do you have any idea what your death would do to all of us? Have you thought about what killing yourself would do to _Legolas_?"

" _Nothing_ ," she snapped, crossing her arms. "It would not even matter; everyone would move on."

"You are only saying that to be contrary, and you _know_ it," Arwen said, keeping a tight rein on her temper, and having to bite the inside of her cheek to do it. "No one would 'move on.' How many times have you said that you do not know what you would do if Legolas left you? How many times have you said that you would die without him? There is no difference; Legolas needs you as much as you need him, and if you took your life, you would _destroy his heart_. He would die of a broken heart, and _you_ would be the cause." She frowned deeply, her heart hurting. " _Enguina_ —"

"Do _not_ ," she complained gruffly. "I do _not_ want to hear it!"

Arwen ignored her complaint. "You have been my best friend for nearly a thousand years," she whispered. "Do you think I would feel nothing at your death?"

"I…I cannot care, Arwen," she said, a bit more miserable than angry. "I cannot _think_ past these dreams, these nightmares! They _haunt_ me!"

Arwen reached out and gripped her shoulders, but she did not shake her as she wanted to. "If you cannot care about me, then you should care about Legolas. Think about what you would have done to him by taking your own life. _Think,_ Enguina!"

" _Stop it!_ " she snapped, glaring at her and shoving her in the shoulders, knocking herself free of the elf's grip. Arwen stumbled back a step, but then held her ground. "I do not _want_ to! I want this to _stop_ , Arwen!"

"You said you love him. You _said_ you love him," she repeated, her face sad.

"Do _not_ push me…" she warned, anger boiling up inside her.

"Do you? Do you really love him? When you would rather _kill_ yourself than face what happened, to fight it with everything that is in you?" She shook her head very slowly. "Enguina, you cannot say you love him…and then do something _so foolish_."

Undeniable, uncontrollable rage flooded Enguina. She did not love him? Beyond infuriated, she lunged forward and swung at Arwen with all her might, connecting suddenly with the side of her friend's head. Arwen had made no move to duck or move aside, even though Enguina had scratched her cheek and bruised her. She stumbled and dropped back against the stones of the Embrasure. Arwen's lack of defense only infuriated Enguina and made her want to hit her again.

"How _dare_ you?!" Enguina seethed, nearly snarling. "After everything I have been through? After agreeing to _marry_ him? _How dare you say I do not love him_?"

"I did not say you did not, I asked you if you _did._ Why would you do this if you did?" she asked her, but she stayed against the wall, allowing a bit of distance between them. She held one hand to her face, covering her aching cheek. "Why are you letting him go if you love him? That is what you are doing, you know." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "You are leaving him."

"I am _not_ leaving him!"

"You were just going to take your own life and throw it away!"

"I have had this weight," she stuttered out, clutching her hands to her chest, "hanging over me, pressing in on me, Arwen. Always it is present, every moment! What if I am not enough? What if—"

"Not enough? He _wants_ you to _be his wife! He wants you_!" Arwen's expression was loaded with exasperation. "He asked you to wed him for a reason! Do not be so ridiculous!"

"What if I am not enough for him? What if I frighten him away with all these dreams and _mad_ behaviors? I cannot control my stomach; I cry at seemingly random moments; I lose my _mind_ when I dream…these are all ridiculous things that cannot be controlled, cannot be stopped! He is never going to want to handle any of that, especially not forever; it is completely unfair to ask it of him! What if I am like this forever? I am _afraid_! What if I…what if we…what if we cannot…what if we can _never…_ " She lost her voice, having it break off into tears before she could find it again, unable to continue the thought. " _You_ ," she muttered accusingly, "you have no _idea_! You cannot possibly know or understand the weight of the _shame_ that I carry!"

Arwen stared at her and Enguina turned away, stalking back towards the Tower; the elf's hand caught her arm and in her anger she spun to bat her away. Arwen had already let go and took a step back, so Enguina's swing landed on nothing. "Enguina," she whispered, her voice full of pain, "you think I know nothing of shame? I…I _understand_ your shame, your suffering."

" _You know_ _ **nothing**_ _of my shame!_ " she hissed, furious. "Do _not_ try to understand! Have you had a man hold you down and take you against your will?" She choked on tears, but kept going. "Have you had someone enter you right before Aragorn's eyes? _No_ …you would never survive it! Yet you stand here and tell me that I need to make a _choice_ to survive! That is… _that is ridiculous_!"

"Surviving _is_ a choice. What you are feeling—"

"Oh _yes_ , Arwen," Enguina said mockingly, "knower of everyone's pain! Tell me about what I am feeling and explain it all away!"

"You are so angry," Arwen said, tears of hurt coming to her eyes, "that you cannot see beyond your own pain. I do not know _everyone's_ pain; that is a ridiculous assumption and utterly untrue. But your shame I _do_ understand, Enguina; do you not think I have experienced shame?"

" _You_?" Enguina scoffed. " _When_? When you married the perfect man? When you left your father, your own people, to marry a mortal?" Laughing was difficult but somehow she managed it. "That shame you brought on yourself!"

"Marrying Aragorn brought me no shame," Arwen said seriously, her eyes darkening. Controlling her temper suddenly became so difficult her left hand balled into a fist…but she kept it at her side. She was not going to hit her friend as she lashed out in fear and pain…she was _not_.

"You cannot understand the weight of the shame I bear! Do not talk about your perfect life and—"

"You forget, again, that my life is not perfect. Blinded by your own suffering, you cannot see that of anyone else," Arwen told her, tears spilling down her face, even as she tried to wipe them away. "I _know_ suffering, Enguina. It is unfathomable the amount of suffering I am familiar with. You forget; you think the pain of losing a child is not shame? You think that I do not wear it like a badge on my arm, like a dead weight in my heart as you do?"

"There is no _shame_ in—"

"There _is_ shame! Look around you!" Arwen cried, waving her hand towards the city. "You do not see their eyes, so in love have you been with Legolas these past few months. They _judge_ ; they _condemn_ …my heart is _full_ of shame. I cannot bear my husband a son!" She choked on the tears and wiped her eyes. "I _know_ shame, and I carry it like a torch just as _you_ do. Neither Aragorn nor I _asked_ for this pain…but we _must_ accept it. We _have_ accepted it, even if it tears our hearts out, tortures us in the night, as your pain does you. _We had to accept it…and must go on living_."

" _Accept?_ " Enguina's voice squeaked out. "That—you—Eru in Heaven, Arwen!" she shouted. "Why would I want to accept it? I do not even want to admit it _happened_ , or acknowledge he ever existed! I cannot get him out of my head!"

"I know it seems impossible," she gasped in response. "Sometimes, my heart feels as though it will shatter with the weight of the burden I bear; sometimes I feel like I will cry forever, as though the rain will never stop. Sometimes I think it would be better to be alone, but it _never_ is; I need his arms, his shelter. Ilúvatar gave me Aragorn to hold me up. I could never do this on my own. I _need_ him, as my reminder of life, of love, of _hope_ , of trusting the One. No matter how much I want to pretend it did not happen, I cannot wish the pain away. At times, it will consume me, just as it does you. But you cannot wish the pain away either. You _must_ accept that it happened."

"You have no _idea_ what I am feeling! You were not taken against your will! You were not taken against your will, you were not forced to do something despicable or had it forced on you!" She shook her head. "You have no idea at _all_ what I am feeling! _You_ do not look in the mirror and despise what you see! You do not have to live, knowing that every day the man you love sees how impure you are and you have to live with that. You cannot get purity back, Arwen! I have been _used_ …and thrown away like scraps for animals!"

"Stop that!" Arwen cried, clutching her hands. "Stop saying that! You did not give him anything; you _are_ pure! A man cannot simply take away your purity; you have to give yourself—"

Enguina yanked her hands away. "What would _you_ know about it? You have only ever been with Aragorn! I _hate_ myself, and you have no idea what that feels like."

"Yes, I _do_. Do you think I do not blame myself for what happened to the baby?" she whispered.

"That is ridiculous!" Enguina cried, shaking her head. "That had nothing to do with—"

"Neither did what happened to you have to do with _you!_ What happened was not your fault; it was Bragolaur's! Yet you want to blame yourself; I _know_ , Enguina. I have been in that place; sometimes I still am. Do you think I do not dream? That I do not feel a constant ache from the loss? Sometimes I cannot _breathe_ it hurts so terribly. The pain you are feeling is a loss of a part of yourself, just as the baby was a part of me. Even though you do not want to admit it; I _know_ what you are feeling."

Enguina shook her head slowly. "You know what, Arwen?" she whispered. "I do not even _care_. Aragorn is not going to leave you because you have not given him a child. He is not going to want to stop being with you because of that, but these dreams? These memories of what Bragolaur did to me? They would frighten anyone away! How can I sleep beside Legolas in the same bed when I cannot have him touch me? I hurt him at every turn. At least Aragorn can touch you!"

"You have to decide that Bragolaur is no longer going to rule your life, Enguina. Just as you did before, when you made the decision to choose Legolas," she said seriously. "You must make the same choice. The dreams will fade with time. Every time you have a dream you must _fight_ it, not let it control you. _That_ is why you are spending your nights running from him; you must accept it happened and turn to confront him, and then accept Legolas's arms for comfort. You cannot chase him away."

"How… _how_ can I accept this? _How_? It is impossible!"

"You need to start by telling Legolas the truth," Arwen said firmly.

" _What?_ " she asked incredulously. "Not _this_ again! _No!_ Absolutely _not_!"

"Enguina, this is yet _another_ way you are allowing Bragolaur to rule your life. You have been hiding from the truth for so long; you swore you would tell Legolas when—"

"But he _saw_! He _knows!_ What is there to tell?"

"Everything. Tell him _everything_! Tell him how much you love him and how you are going to fight this with everything inside you, but you need his help. Tell him that you need him at your side every night to guide you through the fear. Tell him the whole story about Bragolaur from the beginning; he has every _right_ to know. The longer you wait now, the worse it becomes. And then finally, tell him your fears about seeing Bragolaur when you are going to be wed, when you are going to make love. Make him _aware_ ; make him _ready._ "

Enguina shook her head, tears springing to her eyes again. "I...I _cannot_! Arwen, that will tear me apart!"

"Why?" she asked, standing her ground. "Because you are _afraid_?" She stared at her. "You have to overcome these fears, Enguina. You _must_ face them. Bragolaur is only a memory now; he is so dead it is not even reasonable to think of him as being a living person once. You _must_ talk to Legolas."

"I cannot tell him that I…I am afraid to see…no, it will not do, Arwen!"

"Enguina," she said, trying to prevent the elf's hands from wringing; this time, she caught and held them, "the most important things you can do right now are face your fears and tell the truth." She looked down at Enguina's hands and sighed. "Do you know what the most frightening thing about losing the baby was?" Her voice was so soft that Enguina had to lean in to hear her.

"I do not know if I _want_ to know," she replied, shaking her head. "In fact, I am _certain_ —"

"It was waking up that first time, after it was over," she interrupted her, thumbing the skin on Enguina's cut and scraped hands. "It was being afraid of having to look into Aragorn's eyes and see his pain, and watch him experience mine…to think about what I would see in those grey eyes. I was afraid that I would see something else in them other than compassion and love…that I would see derision, even _contempt_ …hatred."

Enguina looked horrified for a moment. "Not _Aragorn_."

"I was wrong, of course," she whispered. "But I only found that out after I forced myself to look him in the face for the first time." She lifted her head. "That is what you are going to find with Legolas."

Enguina stared at her. "How can you be so sure?"

"I know him…but more importantly, I understand the love he has for you. Enguina, if you had taken your life tonight," she said, so seriously that Enguina swallowed hard, "Legolas would have been dead within a week. He loves you with his whole heart. He is 'all in,' as they say. He does not do anything if he does not do it with his whole person. You know him enough to know that is true."

"I…I _love_ him, Arwen…" she said, her voice nearly pleading. "But what if love is not enough?"

Arwen stared at her and clenched her hands tightly. "Enguina, love is _always_ enough."

"Love is enough for _you_ and _Aragorn_ ," she said, a bitter taste in her mouth. "You and your—"

"Please," Arwen interrupted her, "enough with this 'perfect marriage' nonsense. If you could see past your hurt, you would remember from three seconds ago that is not true. I dream; I spend some nights crying as you do…but I do not run from Aragorn. I _need_ him, Enguina. Once you tell Legolas the truth, once you begin facing the fears instead of running from them, you will find how much you need him."

"So you have not accepted _your_ troubles either," she muttered accusingly.

"Enguina, I do not run from the memories, from my dreams. I cannot. It _happened_ ; as much as I hate it," she whispered. " _It happened_. _That_ I have admitted and accepted; I cannot go back. You keep wishing that what happened to you did not happen—"

"Do you not?!" she cried. "Do you not wish that you had not lost the baby? Do you not beg Ilúvatar to take away the pain? Do you not—"

"Every day I ask him to take away the pain," she said, "but I do not wish I had not lost the baby. That is hopelessness, Enguina…and I must live in the present, not the past. Hoping for a child that I cannot have is a lost cause. All I can do is pray that Ilúvatar will one day bless us with another, that Aragorn _will_ one day be a father. I must trust him with my life, to take care of me, to bless me when we are ready. You… _you_ must stop wishing that Bragolaur had not assaulted you—" Enguina flinched and opened her mouth to yell at her, but Arwen kept talking, "—and _accept_ that it happened, and above that be _thankful_ that there is a man who does love you and wants to share the rest of your life with you. _That_ , Enguina, is the gift here. If what had happened with Bragolaur had never happened, yes, that would be a wonderful thing…but _nothing_ , no good thing that could ever have happened to you means as much as the love of Legolas." She gave her a small smile. "And _that_ is not a small gift of Ilúvatar. That is a huge, all-consuming gift. _And you are missing it_."

Enguina stood, gaping at her. By Ilúvatar, by the One, Arwen was _right_. She could add up every good thing that had ever happened to her and _not a single one of them or all as a group would ever equal the way she felt when Legolas looked at her_. Oh _god_ , what had she been thinking? Even having her innocence back would not equal the happiness she had found in Legolas. Arwen was right: blind-sided by her own pain, she had lost sight of that completely. She thought about the way she felt when Legolas had first taken her in his arms, their first kiss, the moment he pledged himself to her, the moment he had asked for her hand, the morning she told Arwen of their engagement and the amount of happiness that those memories brought to her. Clapping her hands over her mouth, she began to sob; these were sobs of the realization of what she had _done_ , what she _had been about to do_ , and they wracked her whole being as she fell to her knees at Arwen's feet.

Arwen noticed the change in Enguina as it was happening and was ready when she began sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her friend and held her, pressing Enguina's face against her neck and laying her cheek against her hair.

Enguina wept aloud, uncontrolled. " _Forgive me! Forgive me! I am such a fool! What have I done?!_ "

"Some foolish things," Arwen admitted softly, "but they can be righted, sweet one. Forget what is behind, and remember what you _have_. It is not going to be easy; going forward is _so_ hard, but remind yourself of the reward if you do. Ilúvatar has _blessed_ you, Enguina…not _cursed_ you. Seek him; trust him. He is going to guide you out of this pit. He is sovereign of your life, with you in the storm and the calm. Let him find you here; let him love you through Legolas."

It was growing toward dawn when Enguina finally stopped crying and Arwen had prayed for her; she lifted her head and laid a hand on Arwen's cheek. " _God_ ," she moaned, "how I have hurt you!"

"You have done and said things without thought," Arwen said gently, "but now you will think, not react and make foolish decisions. It is forgiven…but…" she sighed, her eyes filling, " _never_ do it again, _never_ frighten me like that again."

"I swear it! I will not!" Enguina cried, tears spilling over again. They finally gathered themselves and stood, Enguina now holding Arwen's hand. "Will you come back to the house with me?" she asked softly. "I do not want to be alone yet, and I…I left quite a mess in my haste to escape."

Arwen walked with her, trying to ignore the pain in her knee and not limp as much as she felt she needed to. As distracted as she was, Enguina barely noticed, and did not release Arwen's hand but held it tightly. "I will until Legolas comes, and then I will return to Aragorn before we meet with the Council this morning." She was silent for a moment, and then she whispered softly, "I love you, you know… _so much_."

Enguina stopped, released her hand and threw her arms around her friend's neck, crying again.

" _I love you, too_!"


	33. Chapter 33

Dawn arrived at the guesthouse earlier than Enguina desired and more brightly than she desired. She lay on the divan in the sitting room, her head on Arwen's leg, the elf's fingers in her hair. She was not ready to be awake; she knew what was to come, and she was not looking forward to it, even if it needed to be done. She sighed softly.

"You are supposed to be asleep."

Enguina smiled at Arwen's words. "So are you. Why are you awake?"

"I was busy thinking." They were both silent for a moment. "Legolas will be here soon."

"Soon?" Enguina asked incredulously. " _Far_ too early."

"He cannot keep himself away, sweet one. He will be here."

"If he knows anything about me—"

"He would not have left your porch last night," Arwen stated matter-of-factly. "I cannot believe he left you alone…on the first evening back especially. I would have thought he would be stuck to you like a fly in tree sap."

"That was Faramir," Enguina sighed. "He unwittingly dragged him away. I should have gone after him, but…I was too proud." She was silent again, and Arwen said nothing. She shifted, rubbing her cheek against Arwen's leg. "I have learned many difficult lessons tonight. You are…you were so right…and I am _so sorry_ I did not listen earlier. I…could have spared all of us so much grief." Another pause and then, "Why do I never listen to you? Why do I always become angry and get offended by your advice? You have always looked out for me, and your counsel has always been sound."

She shook her head, feeling downright miserable. It was not only because last night she tried to take her own life, and in hindsight she saw what a terrible mistake she would have made. Arwen would have been devastated and Legolas…unimaginable. How she had ever thought, even in the darkest of moments, that no one would care for her or miss her…she was so wrong. And always, after a conversation, an _argument_ like this with Arwen, she felt uncontrollable guilt. What had she _said_ to her last night? Some…very _nasty_ things. The _mood_ she had been in… She shook her head again; her behavior was inexcusable.

"I am so…" she began, whispering. "I am so _sorry_ for what I said to you. The words I must have spoken! I always wound you, and then you always forgive me…even when you should not."

"I am supposed to forgive you…and you were hurting," Arwen replied rather easily. " _You_ never cease to condemn yourself."

"And _you_ never cease to hide how deeply you hurt." Arwen said nothing in response, and so Enguina continued, grumbling, "You should _not_ forgive me so easily. The words you speak, they are the same words Legolas said to me the last time I hurt him during a nightmare: you were hurting. Please, it is a ridiculous excuse. He should not have forgiven me; perhaps I would have attempted to be better earlier."

"I did not want to forgive you for trying to leap from the Embrasure," Arwen interrupted her quietly, drawing her away from the subject of what she had said. "I was so upset with you, but other things became more important than the shock over what you were trying to do. I could not believe that you had done such a thing."

"I know," Enguina mumbled. "I can only apologize for my behavior."

" _And_ promise you shall never do anything so foolish ever again. Your life is not _that_ terrible; you have much to live for," she whispered, and stroked Enguina's cheek.

"I know that…I simply lost sight of it," she said guiltily. "Arwen, will…will it ever fade? Will the memories _ever_ fade?" She whispered the last words, horrified.

Arwen stroked her hair and sighed softly. "Enguina, you are asking me to be honest with you, so I will be honest with you. I believe, yes, that the memory of him will fade; you will make new memories that will erase it. The memory of the pain?" She shook her head. "Enguina, I do not know. I do not think I will ever forget the loss of the babe. Will I bury it? Tuck it away so I do not feel it always hanging over me? Eventually, yes; but will it completely fade away? Probably not. No, instead it will fall to the background and every once in a while it will haunt you—"

"So the dreams will return?"

"Aragorn is not an elf, yet he dreams of things that happened fifty years ago," Arwen stated. "I sometimes dream of my mother, Enguina, and you know how long ago _that_ was. We hold memories much longer than a normal human, good or ill. But, you must decide how you will face them when they do."

"I do not know…" she muttered, "I do not know how I will find a way to talk about these happenings with Legolas."

Arwen heard the front door open quietly and then shut. She lifted her head, listening for footsteps; there were none. "Well," she told her softly, "you shall have to decide how to do it, because he has just come inside."

"Stop toying with me."

Arwen rolled her eyes. "You ears are dead," she grumbled, and then she called out softly, "Legolas!" Enguina startled as Arwen continued, "We are in the sitting room."

"You were serious."

Arwen sighed. "Of course, silly."

Legolas entered, looking a bit sheepish at first, and then his face held total surprise when he saw Arwen and the way they were sitting. He tried to control his expression, but it was no use; it was clear to Arwen that he knew exactly why she was there, and that he felt completely awful about not being present for the nightmare.

Arwen decided to speak before he could berate himself, but Enguina spoke before her, a small smile on her face that distracted him, even though her eyes were unopened. "You are here so _early_ , Legolas! Did you think I would be awake?" She smirked at him, but he noticed that it did not reach her eyes when she looked at him. She had struggled last night.

"I…had hoped you would not be," he replied softly, coming to a stop before them. And then he laughed, blushing a bit. "I did not mean that the way it came out."

Arwen laughed at him. "Of course not, Legolas."

"Thank you for that," he stated, and then he looked back at Enguina. "I had hoped you would be sleeping yet, and peacefully," Legolas admitted.

"That was not to be," she replied in his tone. "Shall we walk today?"

He was surprised by her request, and he glanced at Arwen to see what she thought; she was looking down at the top of Enguina's head instead of him, her fingers still combing through the older elf's hair. "Of course," he replied, unable to look to Arwen for help. "Before things get… _frantic_ in the next several days with arrivals and wedding plans, we should still be able to find some quiet time."

She swung her feet to the floor, sitting up easily and meeting his eyes. "Can we go now?" The incredulous look on his face was too funny not to laugh.

"Is she _serious_ , Arwen?" Legolas asked as Enguina laughed softly herself at his tone. "It is only just past dawn."

Arwen nodded, finally looking up, folding her hands in her lap. "She is indeed."

"I _am_ serious," Enguina agreed. "We can stop for muffins or something on the way for breakfast. Sometimes, this house is a bit too…I feel as though I am in a cage."

"We _have_ been on the road for many days," Legolas reminded her softly. "Do you have a destination in mind?"

"I do, in fact. I was thinking of a quiet place that has been perfect for many-a _serious_ chat."

He eyed her, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Serious?_ What could she mean?

Arwen smiled. "Do not look so worried, Legolas."

He glanced up at her. " _That_ is what worries…" his voice drifted off as he really looked into her face for the first time that morning. "What happened to—"

"Another time," she said, interrupting him gently. "You and Enguina have somewhere to be, and so do I." She leaned over and kissed Enguina's cheek before standing. "Have a good day today. I will see you both for dinner?"

Legolas looked to Enguina for the answer and watched as she nodded. "We will meet you at the King's House. Thank you," she whispered, catching Arwen's hand just before she walked away. "Thank you again."

"Love you," Arwen replied, squeezing her hand within her own. Then she turned, smiled at Legolas and left the house. Enguina looked up at the elf and then got to her feet. He stepped right up in front of her and cupped her face in his hands.

"I am so full of shame that about leaving you here last night." His voice was earnest, grave. "I should have never let Faramir drag me away. I should have—"

"Please…it was…for the best." Enguina smiled at him and rested her hands on his wrists, closing her eyes. "And Arwen was here…" _Thank Ilúvatar…_

"I cannot imagine a situation where you are without me where it would be best."

She laughed. "Ah, _there_ you are."

"Neither one of us have been ourselves these last few days." He studied her face. "Guin, are you certain that you want to go now? You look as though you could use some more rest."

She shook her head. "I will not be able to rest until I speak to you," she said softly, opening her eyes. "And I need to take a long walk before we arrive in the mountains so I am able to do that."

He clearly frowned. "You…are worrying me."

"I live to do that."

That made him smile. "You have already taken several years from my life and I have only known you six months."

 _Oh, Legolas…if you only knew…_ "Think how short your life will be when you spend the next thousand years putting up with me," she murmured, and he bent closer, resting his forehead against hers. "Are you going to kiss me?" Her voice remained low.

He tilted his head. "Shall I? I think that I may have been leaning that way." There was a long pause, and he did lift his head then to look at her fully. "If you have to think about it that—"

She kissed him to silence him, leaning against his chest and tucking her hands up underneath his hair and holding the back of his neck. He had not expected the kiss, assuming that there was a reason she was holding back from him. It was surprisingly gentle for the way she was holding herself to him, and he released his hands from cupping her face to holding her waist.

The kiss ended and she leaned her head back to look into his face. "I was here last night," he whispered, and she appeared confused.

"What?"

"I was here," he reiterated. "After Gimli went to sleep, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to think of anything but you, and how you have lain by my side the last several nights, and I could hardly bear the thought of you alone in this house. So…I came inside and I stood over your bed…and you were sleeping so peacefully that I thought everything was all right." He sighed softly, seeing the surprise on her face. "I have spent every day of the last weeks with you…it is difficult to go back to _not_ having you at my side."

"I was…almost ready to scream aloud when Faramir took you away. Even Éowyn said that when we were wed I would beg for time alone." She blushed. "I…cannot imagine that."

He laughed suddenly. "I will not tell you some of the things Faramir said to me as he walked Gimli and I home. Suffice to say it was a bit… _coarse_ …for ears like yours."

She smiled and shook her head. "I cannot believe you were here."

"I stood _right_ over you…and I turned and left." His face burned still with the shame of it.

"Stop, Legolas. How could you have known?" She trembled once beneath his hands and they tightened on her waist.

"What—"

"Please…" she whispered, her eyes closing again. "Walk with me, Legolas. I need to be outside again."

Kissing her forehead, he took her hands in his and led her from the guesthouse, pausing only long enough for her to pull on her boots.

* * *

Arwen entered the House, closed the door, and fell back against it. She felt completely numb, unable to get a grasp on what was going on around her. Was she tired? Was she _grieving_? Confusion flooded her; she felt as though her legs were like pudding, and she could barely stand upright as she stumbled towards the bedroom, her knee throbbing. Aragorn was still lying in bed, propped upon one elbow, watching as she made her way inside.

She looked at him when she stopped, staring into his grey eyes. She could _feel_ his worry though none of it showed on his face. "Where were you, beloved? I woke and you were not here. You said you were taking a walk…but that was hours ago."

"I…" she hesitated, felt her chest tighten and lay her hand against it, unsure what was happening. Suddenly dizzy, she shook her head.

He took in her stance, her hand, her face—the mark, where her cheek was beginning to bruise—the way her eyes clenched shut, and he propped himself up higher. _Enguina?_ _Did she sense something when she woke?_ _Why did she not call for me?_ "Arwen, are you all right?"

The question caught her, and the pain in her chest spiked; she lost herself completely. Breaking down into tears, _sobbing_ uncontrollably, at first she had no idea why she was crying so hard. But as he struggled to sit up, horrified, confused, reaching for her, she limped towards him and threw herself into bed with him, burying her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

 _Arwen…what the_ _ **hell**_ _?!_ His thought reverberated in her head, but she could not find herself within her…utter grief? Mad joy? Complete relief? Why _was_ she crying? It felt like _hours_ before she could collect herself enough to _think_ about anything, and by that time, his tunic was soaked through and she was so exhausted she was unsure if she could string a few words together. She finally realized that he was whispering to her, as he always did, kissing the top of her head as her trembling began to lessen.

"Everything is all right," he heard him saying, his arms tight around her. "Shh…"

"Enguina…" she mumbled, and he frowned deeply.

"What happened?" he asked her. "Is she all right? She had a nightmare." The last was not a question. She drew a shaking breath.

" _Enguina…_ she… _she_ _tried to kill herself_."

"What?" he asked, but he had heard exactly what she said. "Did you go to the guesthouse? Why did you not call for—"

"There was no time!" she cried, her eyes filling again as she thought back to those _horrifying_ moments. "She was running for the Embrasure; she nearly did it! She was right there and I...I _just_ caught her, Aragorn! _She had her foot on the damn wall!_ " She broke down again. " _And I am so thankful! So thankful, so grateful to Ilúvatar that he put me there with her!_ "

"You knew…you felt something was wrong," he told her gently, terrified at the thought of Enguina hurtling to her death. "That was why you woke. Oh beloved, _let me pray_."

" _Please…_ " she croaked, barely able to speak.

"Father, thank you for rescuing Enguina tonight from herself, from this horror she has faced. Thank you for waking Arwen; for putting her in exactly the right place at the moment she needed to be there. We are both so _grateful_ that you have saved her; you are so faithful. We cannot see your ends; we will never understand them, never understand you fully, but we know that you work in all things for our good, and we thank you that healing _will_ come. We believe it. We pray to you, Ilúvatar, and bless your name."

"Amen," Arwen whispered, peeling her fingers out of his tunic and stretching cramped fingers against his heart. "Ugh…I am so exhausted," she moaned softly, her face still buried in his neck.

"Did Enguina strike you by accident?" he asked gently.

She bit her lip and then decided to be truthful. "No…she struck me because she was angry."

" _What?_ "

"We…argued. I said some things she did not want to hear," she whispered. "True things, but she was angry and upset. _She_ said some things, too, that she cannot take back. She did not mean them, but…they still hurt." She felt his fingers in her hair and it brought tears to her eyes again.

"Are you all right?" he asked her seriously.

"I…I was so…I cannot believe she… _Estel_ ," she said, her breath catching again, " _she had one foot on the wall…_ she was so close. If I had been a second later, _reacted_ a second later…she would be dead…and so would Legolas."

"Are you all right?" he asked again. He was _not_ letting it go; she had to answer him.

"I will be." She was so struck by the knowledge that Enguina had nearly taken her own life, she could hardly see past it. She would…but later.

"Is Enguina all right?"

"It took a long discussion and some…hard words for her to see the truth in what she was doing. Legolas is with her now, and she is going to speak with him. The conversation we had was not the cure, but I hope the end result will be. She _needs_ to talk to Legolas about what really happened."

"We have been saying that since she arrived."

"I think for the first time she may have realized how much time she has lost, what she almost did. She has been pushed as far as she can go; she must take the leap of faith now." She whispered, "She has no choice in the matter. Ilúvatar has taken her past the point of no return."

He was silent for a moment, and she felt him run a gentle finger over her bruised cheek. "What did you _say_ to her, Arwen?" She shook her head, and he knew that she was not going to tell him; at least not now. "I cannot say how glad I am that you were there, that you stopped her. I cannot _imagine_ the disastrous consequences of her action had she been able to go through with it. Thank Ilúvatar." He stroked her hair again. "You were limping when you came in."

"I pulled my knee again running her down," she said, cringing. "It has not had time to fully heal. I think it will be all right with some more rest."

"I can rub it for you," he said to her.

"Leave it at the moment," she replied, sighing softly. "It is comforting to just be here with you."

There was silence between them as she simply lay in the comfort of his arms, both of them thinking about the last several hours. She felt so physically and emotionally drained; she had no idea how she was going to make her way out of bed, and she became even more tired as she remembered the time…Aragorn was to leave soon. There was no _way_ she wanted him to leave her side; the peace of his presence settled over her, made her forget some of the things that haunted her from her discussion with Enguina. She opened her eyes and stared at his throat.

" _Do you have to go?_ " she asked, and as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. She was so tired, she could hardly think straight. "I am so sorry…that was unfair of me—"

"It is only dawn," he murmured, "you are only slightly more tired than me, and I am not leaving you alone just now. You are trapped here with me for several more hours at least."

She sighed and listened to the rhythm of his heart match her own. "Thank Ilúvatar."

"Rest, love," he whispered. "When we wake, all things will be better."

Arwen _knew_ that was true.


	34. Chapter 34

Enguina was coming to realize that there would be no easy way to have or even begin a serious conversation with Legolas. The day was going to be difficult enough even when he asked about the dream he _knew_ she had, and part of her began trying to talk herself out of saying a word and simply sitting with him. And then…the words of Arwen returned to her and the sorrow of what she had said to her weighed down her heart. Arwen was _right._ If she did not speak with Legolas, how could she begin to accept what had happened? Would Legolas ever understand? Would she ever be able to make peace with this, knowing that Legolas could not comprehend what had happened because she had never been honest with him? No, there would be no going back. Enguina _would_ talk with Legolas. Arwen was right; enough _was_ enough, and it was time to try for some acceptance.

Bragolaur _had_ assaulted her, twice. She said it over and over in her mind; at least a _thousand_ times since she had been walking with Legolas. Sadly, she felt it was not going to make it any easier to say it out loud later. To _admit_ that it had happened, to tell Legolas the truth, was the first step to moving on. She needed to do this; to trust Arwen, to trust Legolas, to trust _Ilúvatar_ that things would get better, easier, from here, and with two weeks to the wedding, it was now or never—and it could _not_ be never.

She was sitting now, taking in the beauty of the expanse of the Reunited Kingdom's lands from what had become their special place. In the winter it had been quite cold here, but now in late spring, there were even small flowers and moss growing near some of the rocks. It was so quiet; Legolas had no intention of breaking the silence. He sat, stroking her hand, his fingers catching every once in a while on the ring he had given her, but otherwise he was content to sit and wait her out. A part of her seriously hated that; she wished that a terrible bout of impatience would suddenly strike him and he would talk about anything and everything to draw her out. But Ilúvatar was not going to give her an easy way out; why should he? She had waited until now to do this; it was her own fault.

 _Lord, give me strength! Please, Father, help me._ It was her plea. This time, the words from her song called from her heart in silence. _How many times have you heard me cry out to please take this? Arwen rescued me last night on your call; show me what to do. Give me the strength to do this! I need you…oh, I need you._

She sighed, and he squeezed her hand, the only sign that he had heard her as he did not even turn his head. Looking down, she studied their hands together, and she thought again to how she could have had none of this, how she could have been utterly without him and what a terrible end she would have made for herself. What a _despicable_ thing she had nearly done! Thank Ilúvatar that Arwen had come; thank Ilúvatar for Arwen's words! She blinked back the tears.

"Legolas," she muttered, and she heard him shift, knowing he had turned to look at her, "Legolas, I love you. I love you more than I can…even more than I can describe and I…I _know_ that you love me. I have been so unbelievably _selfish_ , and you, _selfless_. You have been so full of understanding, and so full of compassion for me that I simply…I…" She shook her head. "I do not deserve it!"

" _Guin—_ "

"No, no…you have…you have _no idea_ …" she muttered, half to herself, half to him. "I have been…Legolas, I want to marry you more than I…more than _anything_. I _love_ you," she told him, swallowing hard. " _I love you_." He cupped her face in his hand, the other still holding hers, his face full of concern.

"I love you, too," he whispered. "Slow down, _moina_. Be calm. I am right here; I am not going anywhere."

"I _know_ …believe me, _I know_ ," she said, laughing hoarsely as a tear slipped down her cheek. "You are the best man in all of Middle-Earth and I am… _I am the biggest_ _ **fool**_ _in all of Middle-Earth_. God, if you knew… _if you knew_ …"

"If I knew what?" he asked, so confused. "Guin, take it easy—"

"In all of this madness tonight, my dream, my…" she shook her head. _No,_ there was no way she could tell him what she had done a few hours ago. _No way_. "Legolas, I had a…I had an argument with Arwen."

"What?" he asked, simply out of reflex and disbelief.

"I fought with her," she said, looking into his face. "She said some things— _true_ things—that I did not want to admit, that I did not want to believe. She…told me that I was missing everything that mattered, and that I was clinging to everything that did not." Enguina's eyes closed as they filled. "She told me that unless I told you the truth, unless I really, truly, _honestly_ spoke with you, that I would _never_ be free," she whispered, her breath catching. "That B-B-Br- _Bragolaur_ will continue to haunt me, chase me, rule my heart, if I would not tell you the truth. That if I do not tell you, then I must not love you."

When she was met with silence, she opened her eyes and saw his, burning with fury.

"She said _what?_ " he snapped.

"No, Legolas, she was _right_ ," she admitted.

"That is the…that is _ridiculous_!" he sputtered angrily. "How _could_ she—after everything you have _been_ through—"

"She was _right_ ," she repeated, holding his hand tightly.

"Do not protect her!" he practically snarled. He was so angry he could—

"Do not be angry with her!" she cried, interrupting him and preventing him from rising and pacing as a caged lion. "If there is someone you should be angry with, it should be _me._ I have been _so selfish!_ Legolas, you have been more patient with me than I deserve. _Because_ I love you, _because_ we will be sharing our lives together, I _should_ tell you. What good do secrets and lies do for me, for us? What good is it to hide the truth from you, even if it brings me pain? I have been… _completely_ unfair to you. I have been _wrong_. And Arwen, even though it tore me apart…I feel as though I have finally breathed for the first time since…since you were tied to that tree." She finished, scarcely catching her breath. "I realize what you mean to me, and I _have_ to face what has happened in order to love you the way I _should_ , the way you _deserve_. I _have_ to tell you the truth. I _have_ to be honest, to tell you everything." She swallowed hard again. "You _deserve_ the truth. Perhaps she is right," she said with a derisive laugh, "perhaps after I tear myself apart telling you the truth that I will find that I should have told you months ago, that I will find some peace in the telling…that I will no longer deny it happened."

The last words came out as a whisper, and he suddenly found himself wishing she would choose not to tell him, not if it was going to bring her this much pain. But telling her so now, telling her that he did not want to hear when she was so ready to finally tell him would only hurt her more. No, if this was the path she needed after all this time then he would hear her. He stroked her face, trying to rein in his anger, trying to understand how Arwen was right even when it had hurt her so much.

"I will listen," he said gently, and she nibbled her bottom lip, which he then brushed with his thumb. "Do not do that."

She laughed through her tears. "I have owed you the truth for so long, I barely know where to begin. This…this is going to be so hard. I…may not be able to look at you at all."

His eyes flooded with concern. "Enguina, I am not going to judge you. I love you, adore you; nothing is going to change that. Ever."

"Yes, you…you keep telling me that."

"You should begin to believe it."

She stared at him. "I…I _should_. I _do_."

He smiled. "That is a good beginning." There was quiet as she looked at him.

"IhitArwenintheface!" she blurted out suddenly, and then she winced as he stared at her.

"You…what? Hit—?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he remembered the bruising on Arwen's face. "During the nightmare?"

"No," she groaned. "I was so angry with her, for what she said, that I struck her in the face with my fist." Legolas could not help but think, after hearing what she had said, that Arwen had probably deserved it. Enguina covered her face. " _Ah,_ I shall _never_ forgive myself for it. No amount of temper should be followed by that! And some of the things I…some of what I _said_ …"

"Everything between you seemed all right this morning," he began comfortingly.

"That is just it! That is because you all seem to be in the habit of forgiving me when I do not deserve it!" she groaned. "Legolas, it is entirely _unreasonable_."

"Forgiveness is not earned, _moina_. If you deserved it, it would not be forgiveness. Arwen has clearly forgiven you for hitting her; forgive yourself."

 _Forgive yourself_. The words struck her heart. She had said, had done, so many things these past few weeks and months that she was ashamed of. She was ashamed of what had happened with Bragolaur, but perhaps telling Legolas _would_ help her, it would help her overcome her shame of what had happened and then allow her betrothed to help heal her heart as he had been doing every day since he had entered her life. It might help her to admit that it happened, _aloud_ …to someone that mattered.

"Let me…let me try to tell you what I can," she said a bit uncomfortably. "What happened with Arwen…well, it stemmed from my shame, my discomfort over the truth. Oh, _Legolas_ …what I would not give for you to already know so that I…so that I did not have to say one word about this. But…what good would that do?"

"I will know once you tell me," he told her in that gentle voice again. "Do not be afraid."

"It is not fear," she whispered, tears in her voice. "It…it is…"

"Shame?" he suggested softly.

"Shame," she muttered painfully, her face burning. He released her hand and cupped her head again, rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones and ears.

"You should not even _feel_ shame. There is no humiliation when there is no judgment," he told her. "And there should be no shame when you are not to blame for what happened." Sighing, he continued, "Oh, Guin, how I wish I could make you understand how much I care for you, how much I hurt for your pain."

"I know…I _swear_ that I know." She paused, and then gathered her wits and thought about where to begin. "Let me…let me think for a moment, where to…tell the story from… _how_ to tell it." It was not easy, and she found herself unable to look in those trustworthy eyes.

"I had known Br-Bragolaur for many years. He was a Lieutenant under Captain Andocheb, as was Haldir, so they were close friends. He knew my family well," she said, trying to speak normally as Legolas took both of her hands in his own to still the inevitable wringing before it began, "and he spent many of his nights either in our company or in Haldir's family home. He was a…he was a good man. He had all the appearance of someone who was trustworthy, he was a good friend to my brother, and my mother and father approved greatly of him. He could do no wrong within our family. He was…he was like another brother to me. He kept a watchful eye, like a guardian.

"When Arwen came to stay for several years before Aragorn's arrival in Lórien, Bragolaur began to court me. She did not like him," she shook her head. "I _knew_ it, but she had never said so. Bragolaur had always, since I had known him, called me 'fair one.'" She shuddered, and he scooted a bit closer to her; she was grateful for the warmth. "Thank you," she whispered, and then swallowed and continued. "It had become a simple endearment to me, but it meant something different to him. I did not know that until…well, much later.

"He courted me for some time; during that time, my parents decided that they were ready to sail for Valinor. I was to travel, along with a gathering of elves, to the Grey Havens and then return to Lórien with them. It was a journey I was thrilled to be making; I had never been outside the woods of Lothlórien, and we spent months preparing for the trip. A week before our departure and much to my surprise, Bragolaur…Bragolaur proposed. He asked me to wed him."

"Why did it surprise you?" Legolas asked her softly. "It seems reasonable that since he knew your family so well and you that he would think a union between you both would be a happy event."

"He never spoke to my father," she said. "He never asked him for permission; I discovered this on the journey to the Havens. He never let on that he felt...that sort of attraction for me. Though he studied me like no one else." She looked up into his face, wondering how she could have ever thought Bragolaur had loved her when she knew the look in Legolas's eyes. How had she been so blind? "I _was_ surprised but…I could not imagine saying no.

"It was…it was _Arwen_ , even in her state of despair, that told me to take the journey to think about it. She was the only one who knew of his question; I did not tell my parents until we were journeying, and I never told Haldir…not even Erumar knew he had asked. Arwen asked me if I loved Bragolaur, and at the time, I had no idea how to answer her. He was the first person I _knew_ that I felt something for. I just did not know what it was; I thought it was love, but I did not want to say yes to him when I would be gone for several months. I…took Arwen's advice."

"Yet, you knew that Arwen did not approve of him?"

"She…wanted me to be happy," Enguina said softly. "Despite her own reservations, she told me that she was worried about the look in Bragolaur's eye, and that the way he _looked_ at me made her uncomfortable. I told her…well, I told her that she was full of utter nonsense and she was worried over _nothing._ She told me that she would be happy for me, that she would support my choice, but she thought I should think about it. Bragolaur was not pleased with the long waiting…" she smiled ruefully, "what man would be? But he agreed to wait. I took this as a good sign, and left."

" _Did_ you love him, Guin?" Legolas asked, studying her.

"Legolas," she replied honestly, looking him full in the face, "I did not even know what love _was_ before you. I knew _of_ it, but I had never experienced it before. I thought that my feelings for Bragolaur _were_ love. How was I supposed to know?" Looking baffled, lifting her shoulders. "I did not know any better! I had no idea that what I felt for him was not love…or at least, not the love I have come to understand. Not when I left Lórien anyway." She sighed.

"Upon my return, I found Arwen in unparalleled better spirits, my brother nearly a changed man, and Bragolaur awaiting my response. After spending nearly two seasons at the Havens and many hours long in thought, I had finally figured out my feelings for Bragolaur. What I felt for him was exactly like what I had felt for my brother. I _did_ love him, but I loved him like I loved Haldir, or even Arwen. I cared for him," she whispered, "but that was not what I thought love was supposed to be like. I had spoken with my parents; though they had been together for thousands of years, even they were not the image of 'love' that I had imagined. Oh Legolas, I-I wanted to be loved; I _yearned_ for real love."

"You deserved it," he told her, squeezing her hands as she looked down at them. "I have told you this a thousand times. You deserve to be loved as Ilúvatar loves you—"

"As _you_ love me," she whispered.

"Even so."

"I told Arwen the truth of my discovery," she said, her voice still soft. "She was pleased that I had made a choice, sorry that I had discovered I did not love him, but I knew she was secretly pleased that I had not chosen him. Funny enough, I was not sorry. I met him one morning while I was out walking and we spoke at length about my journey and then my love for him. I explained everything to him, and he…he was so _angry_. I had never seen him angry, passionate, _furious_. He tried to convince me, telling me how beautiful I was, that I was made for him, that we were meant to be together, that I was meant to be his gorgeous wife and…and that was the moment I realized that he barely knew me," she explained, disgusted. "The only reason he wanted me was because I was a pretty face, and I was the sister of Haldir, the man who would become Captain of the Guard.

"So I turned away, telling him I could not speak with him until he was reasonable. He held onto me so tight that I could not get away." Her eyes closed as she remembered, one hand drifting from his to wrap around her forearm. "He held on, even as I tried to get away; he held harder, grew _angrier_ , and I felt him crack my arm. He was…even then he was _so strong_." She swallowed hard. "I finally scratched him and ran for it, escaping for the moment.

"Arwen found out about what had happened," she continued before he could speak. "She confronted him, told him to stay away from me, and cautioned me to stay as far away as I could. She…never did tell me what she said to him, and I never spoke to anyone else about what transpired between us. I thought he just…" Her eyes suddenly were wet with tears and her breath caught.

"It is all right—"

"No, _no_ it was not," she choked out. "I thought he just needed time, that he could forgive me. But…that was not what happened; things progressively grew worse. I had a confrontation with him one morning, brief, but no attempt at kindness helped to ease the… _fury_ he felt. Arwen…did not know we had spoken, but the following morning I was to meet her—" She lost her voice, and the tears fell as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying desperately not to lose it completely. Legolas leaned into her, pressing her against him and his hand to her back. The movement was so easy, so smooth and comforting that she gathered herself, though her voice was shaking when she spoke.

"I was to meet her on Cerin Amroth and she was going to tell me of her…of how she had changed. I did not know it was because of Aragorn…but I was there alone in the early morning and she had been held up in Caras Galadon; and…and _Bragolaur_ came to me there. He tried to be civil at first, but our conversation grew heated, especially when I explained that I knew he did not love me, that he only thought me beautiful. I was to be his…what? His _prize_." She shook her head, trying to wipe her tears away, gripping his hand in one of hers, the nails digging his flesh as she held on tightly. "Oh Legolas, I could not _stand_ that. And then he…he tried to touch me.

"I was so… _shocked_ I could hardly turn him away. I never expected him to grab my arm and then grab my….touch me like that." She could no longer look in his face, but she felt his fingers tighten along her back. "I told him to stop, but he ignored me. When he continued after I had told him no, I slapped him across the face, pulling back, and he struck me…" Pain was all over her face, as though she felt the slap at that moment. "I had never been _hit_ that way. It _hurt_ ; it was so _hard_ , and he was so strong and his fury ate away any last mental stability he had." She began trembling, and Legolas's arm wrapped more tightly around her, tugging her shoulders to his chest. "When he hit me, I fell backwards into the grass. He grabbed me, leapt on me, tearing at the front of my dress like…like some _animal_. I barely _knew_ him!

"I fought back," she murmured, tears coming hard now. "I kicked him, hit him with my fists, screaming aloud, and finally I knocked him back. I lunged to my feet to fly, but h-he caught my ankle and yanked me down to the ground. I hit my head so hard, unable to catch myself, and he was suddenly on me…and then we were rolling down that beautiful hill, among all those beautiful flowers, to the bottom where he flung himself atop me and...and…"

Horrified, she could not speak, and Legolas did not know how much he should interrupt her now. He released her other hand and wrapped his arm around her, taking the side of her head in his hand and gently pressing her temple to his lips. "Shh…" he whispered, "it is all right."

"I was so disoriented," she muttered through her tears, "I could barely move. He tied my hands and plunged a dagger between them, just as he did that night before you. I was so stunned at what he was doing I-I-I had _no idea_ ; I could not figure out what he was _doing_ , as though I was seeing him through water or a haze. And then he…he was _telling_ me things that were _inappropriate_ , what he was going to do, how he would make me cry out his name, how he would make me worship him with my body, how—how it would feel for him to touch me… I-I-I did not know about any of those things!" she cried. "I did not know what he meant, how he was going to hurt me! Then he tore the front of my dress and I was screaming…" She gasped and fought to continue. _Ilúvatar, help me!_ "I was so afraid!"

" _Legolas_ ," she whispered, as though he was her place of safety, "I was so hurt and terrified and I tried to get loose but I could not get his _terrible weight_ off of me. He started hitting me in the face, telling me to shut my mouth or he would wound me so badly I could not speak. I could not help but beg him, plead with him, and then he tore a sleeve from my dress and smothered my screams with it. He _touched_ me; he had his hands on my—" her voice choked out on _breasts_ , "—and then he-he-he _knelt_ on my knees and yanked up my dress and was pressing himself on me while he kept touching me, telling me that I was his idol, that he would never have enough of me. His hands were _awful_ and they just did not stop! His _mouth_ biting and _hurting!_ He whispered the most _horrible_ …anything he could say to wound me, and then…and…and then he…removed his trousers." She was trembling against him so hard he could feel his body vibrating. "I can see him now…slipping off his belt and…

" _I was so afraid_ ," she moaned painfully, and Legolas felt her begin to shiver against him. "I tried everything to get away, but he was _so strong_. He was so angry that I was trying to escape him, and he knew right were to hit for the most damage. Sometimes when I dream, I still feel the blows from his belt across my skin." She was whimpering now, tears pouring down her face. "I could barely move, barely breathe for the pain when he was finished with his anger, and then he told me I was—that I was _his_ , and I would be his forever. He would _mark_ me, and take me…and no one would ever want to have me ever again. He knew right where to hold me…and then he…and he _did_ , forcing himself into me the way he did that night… _the_ _pain_ —"

Enguina lowered her face to Legolas's chest and wept, her hands gripping her abdomen; he held her tightly, resting his cheek against her hair, shushing her softly, anger beyond words flooding him. Oh, if _only_ he could have killed Bragolaur _himself_ , that his hands had found his throat, that he had wrung the elf's neck until he _felt_ his breathing stop, then perhaps he may have felt some sort of closure! His heart broke for what had happened to her.

"The _pain_ is what I remember the most," she groaned, feeling him flinch against her. " _I still feel like he is tearing me apart. It is that moment that haunts my dreams…that makes me so sick._ It makes me _hurt_ , to remember what he did, to _think_ about it, _to tell you_. When I…when I laid there in front of you, naked, his _hands_ on me, his _filthy mouth_ —" she swallowed hard, feeling the muffin she had for breakfast trying to rebel, "and he tried to enter me and I _cried out_ —" She had to stop talking again as she lost herself to the tears.

Legolas swallowed hard himself, bitter bile and the acid of ferocity tearing at his heart and throat. _Oh Ilúvatar...what are you_ _ **doing**_ _? Where are you? Why did I think this would make this easier? Why did I want to know? Why did I not simply trust that what you wanted a secret was a secret for my own good? Lord, teach me to trust you! What in the name of Heaven was I thinking? Why did I think I could survive this? The telling of this tale? Why did I think that_ _ **she**_ _could? Ilúvatar, and I pushed her!_

" _Guin,_ " he whispered, his voice full of comfort, compassion— _love_. " _My Guin._ "

"I do not know when Arwen came," she struggled out, trying to find neutral words to bring some calm into herself before she became unable to breathe. "I have no idea how long it was, how long I laid there…I know that there was screaming, choking breaths and gasping, some of it mine…I had never heard her voice like that. It was…it was so frightening; I thought he was dead. _I wished he was dead…I wished_ _ **I**_ _was dead._ " The words were the truth, but she felt him tighten around her again, as if trying to protect her from her own words. "I remember that she fought with him; I remember that she touched my face and I…I flinched away. Everything hurt, I was in so much pain. I remember how she cried, how she untied me, covered me with her cloak. I remember how it began to rain, and I was so cold, and in so much pain, I could not stop crying. We were so wet and I could not stop shivering, the pain of what he had done…Arwen stripped off her dress and clothed me when we began making our way back to Caras Galadon, leaving herself in her shift alone. She covered me with her own dress," she croaked out, "and then when my own legs could not carry me any more… _she_ _did_." She buried her face against him, unable to speak for a moment, thinking of what Arwen had done to care for her.

There was no doubt in Legolas's mind why Arwen could not ever recount the full story; his heart broke simply listening to Enguina tell it…and he cursed himself that he had accused her of deserving such a blow this morning. He stroked Enguina's hair; it gave her strength.

"I do not remember much of anything else that day," she whispered. "I remember some days later hearing that Haldir had tried hunting him down, but he had no success. None…none of them knew the full extent of what had happened except the Lady…they only knew that I had been seriously wounded and beaten, that Bragolaur had lost his mind. Arwen and Erumar stayed at my side; the nightmares were _excruciating_ , the pain unfathomable." She hesitated, and then whispered. "They never stopped. No matter what I tried…they have always been as bad as they are now."

Rubbing her eyes with one hand, trying to wipe her face, to his surprise she looked up into his face. "Legolas, I-I realized last night that you…you _have_ changed me. Your _love_ has changed me, and I _want_ that love. I would do anything to be worthy of it. This shadow of pain, the shadow of Bragolaur _haunts_ me; it haunts my every step. I love you with everything I am, but I…I…" She paused, unable to think as her mind stalled and she stared into his bright eyes. He did not speak; he could not. Her fingers curled more tightly into his tunic, holding herself to his chest, still bound in his arms. "I…I am _afraid._ " The words stumbled out of her mouth. She had not meant to say them, but now they came again, unbidden. " _I am so afraid, Legolas._ "

He hesitated, swallowed, made certain he could speak before he asked the question. "What are you so afraid of? The shadow? His memory? I am not going to leave you; not ever, for any reason. Lay your burdens down on me."

What if she did? What if she finally told him her deepest fear? Could she share it with him? Could he possibly understand? Would he laugh at her, tell her there was nothing to be afraid of? Tell her that she was foolish and that he would take care of her? And she knew, in that moment, that if she did not force the words out right now, there was no way she was _ever_ getting them out…she would never be able to fall into this conversation with him again. She could not get any more broken than she was right now. This _would_ be the bottom…the only place left to go would be up.

"I know; I know you are not leaving. I know it now more than ever. If there is nothing else that I believe, Legolas, it is the constancy of your affection, your devotion. It is not you, or your love, that I fear, it is…I am afraid of…" she glanced down, looked at her fingertips wound in his tunic, felt his hands upon her back, and she gave up. If there was nothing else to hide, there would be nowhere left to run…and she was _so tired of running_. She met his gaze again, shame on her face.

"I am afraid of the _pain_ , Legolas. I am afraid of what I will see when you finally lay me down. I am afraid that I will see _him_ , and feel _him_ , and not you…and that when you…when we…" Her breath caught again, and she had to swallow the anxiety and rush of despair that flooded her. "I am afraid that when we try to make love I-I will not be able to." Her voice was hoarse, full of agony. "I am afraid that I will be unable to love you the way that you deserve, to please you in any way." He tried to interrupt her, but she continued now, rambling with her grief, tears pouring again. "I am afraid that all I will feel is pain; that I will not be able to take any pleasure at your touch; that I will be so hurt that I cannot think of you and that you are loving me, but what _he_ did…and how he _hurt_ me. Ilúvatar, I am so full of shame at what happened—"

"N-none of this was your doing," he whispered, stumbling over the words.

"I do not want to see him," she cried, untangling a hand to reach up and press her fingertips to his cheek, his lips. "I want to see _you_ and love _you_ and feel _your hands_ , _your_ lips on mine, on my skin…not _his_. Not his hands or his mouth or his _teeth_!" The words tumbled from her mouth before she could prevent them and she felt his hands in her hair. " _God_ , not _his_ , but to be joined like Ilúvatar clearly desires," she murmured, tears still falling on her face, "to be one with _you_ …t-to-to _give_ you myself and _want_ to share myself physically with you… _Legolas_! _I am so afraid!_ "

He swallowed so hard there was an audible sound. _Oh, Guin, I would…I would this moment…I would lay you down and show you how much I love you. I do not want to wait to show you the truth of my love any longer. If I could only—if I could just—_

" _My Guin_ …" he whispered aloud, trying to find the words, "I am going to marry you. I am going to show you, in unimaginably exquisite detail, what love is really like, what it is for two people who truly love, who _know_ one another, who want to share everything. Yes, we will share _everything_ ; we will share our thoughts without despair, we will share our home without secrets, and we will share our bodies with joy in one another…even if it will take us a year."

"A year?" she questioned, barely able to squeak out the word.

"I will wait forever for this if I must; _you_ are worth it." He tilted her chin up towards him using the thumbs that still rested on both sides of her face, the edges of his fingers groping her scalp. "To be _one_ with you, to touch you like that, to make myself completely yours, will be one of the greatest adventures of my life. And I will erase every touch, I will wipe away every mark and stain, and I will break every hold he has had on your body and mind these past fifty years. We…you are his no longer; you are _mine_ , and I am _yours_ , just as I said. And if, that first night, we are afraid, then we will be afraid together. We will lose ourselves in each other," he said passionately. "You are the life of my soul, Guin; the melody of my heart. And if it takes us the rest of our lives, we will spend it understanding how to love one another."

She leaned into him, as he had inexplicably drawn her lips to his, and kissed him, found her fingers winding tighter and tighter in his hair as her right hand crushed his face against hers. The kiss, which grew as it progressed, became longer, rougher, than he had begun. When they finally broke away, she was completely breathless and their heads remained connected by their hands behind each other's necks and the love in their eyes.

" _Oh,_ Legolas… _Legolas…_ "

"How…how I wish with all my heart we were married. Right _now_ … _right this moment_." The words came out of his mouth, the filter gone. " _I would touch you all over and erase him completely,_ " he whispered, bending his neck to press his lips to the side of her mouth, her cheek, her chin, and she trembled, her fingers tightening in his hair. "I would make it so that you have no memory of him—only of _me,_ of _us. I would…I would show you_ … _Ilúvatar, forgive me…what our love really is…_ " And as afraid as she was of seeing Bragolaur when he would lay her down to love her, she trusted him more than she ever thought she could say. She _believed_ him, and that was a step closer to being at peace, to lessening her fear. For the first time, Enguina felt more than a desire to be beside him, and she acknowledged what Arwen had said to her, that her desire to be with Legolas, to fall into his arms, was not _wrong_ —because they _loved_ each other, _really loved_ —it was _so right_.

As Legolas had said, even if it took them forever, they _would_ share themselves with the other. That was enough of a promise that told her he understood exactly what she needed more than she had ever imagined, more than even she knew. His words did not chase away her fear, her anxiety, but they showed he _understood_. And she found that was exactly what she had needed: a _confidant_ , not a protector; not a place to hide, but a place of _compassion_ and _peace_ where she could find strength and love. She had admitted she could not do this alone. Now, Legolas was her rock, safe in his embrace…not to _hide_ , but to push back against the storm that raged against her.

And for the first time in fifty years, Enguina felt that she could feel Ilúvatar's touch on her face beneath Legolas's hands.


	35. Chapter 35

The porch of the King's House had been quiet enough for the four of them to sit and gaze out over the City after their supper. Dinner had been a quiet affair; Éowyn and Faramir were still recovering from their journey and Gimli had been invited out with his kin, so the table had been set for the four of them only. They had discovered that Aragorn had been lucky enough to avoid the Council for another day, and at least they had appeared rested; Legolas could not say the same for Enguina. The conversation had been very calming, very good for both of them after the day they had, and the peace of Aragorn and Arwen only served to help that along.

On the porch, they had enjoyed the setting of the sun together and spent an hour or so talking about nothing, which had been perfect. Enguina had spent the hour with him on the settee, her head laid back against his chest, her fingers wound in his. Arwen had again seated herself at Aragorn's bare feet, her head against his knee, his fingers in her hair. Legolas had felt it was good simply to be together, but when Enguina began to drift away, he thought it a good time to walk her home. He would have carried her asleep, but she would have none of that. Instead, he had seen them out, leaving Aragorn and Arwen to each other on the porch.

Now, the lamps were lit and the night was cooling; there was a misty rain settling over Minas Tirith. Enguina walked beside him, their fingers laced together as they had been on the porch, her eyes full of him. He smiled down at her as he realized her gaze was on him, and she gave him a little smile in return.

"I cannot believe we did not speak of the wedding," she said softly. "I thought that would be the topic of the evening."

"Perhaps if Éowyn had been present," he laughed. "These two were more concerned with our peace of mind. They knew we were to talk today; perhaps they did not want to rush it with talk of dresses and flowers and tricks—wait, only _you_ and _Gimli_ are allowed to talk of that."

"I have no idea what you are referring," she said innocently, and then added, "They were probably glad you did not have any injuries."

"Were you intending to hurt me today, _moina_?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The worst you would have done would be to grip me too tightly. I could have done the same to you."

Her hand tightened in his. "Legolas, you could never hold me too tight."

He smiled. "I am glad to hear that." They walked slowly a little further along the path. "Aragorn and Arwen were good company tonight. Their calming presence, their hope in the One…I feel that through them even when we do not speak of it. It is soothing to me; I hope it was as soothing to you." He smiled. "Arwen's face looked much better this evening."

She _tsked_ at him with her tongue. "Oh, do not even _mention_ time I looked at her I saw my handiwork. I was surprised Aragorn did not have words with me about it." Enguina looked down at the stones as they walked. "And I thought perhaps you would try and get Aragorn alone…so you could speak of me. I thought, at the very least, you would have words with him."

"Aragorn is an excellent reader," Legolas admitted, "always has been. If he thought we needed to talk, he would have found a way to get me alone. I think he could tell that you were all right for the moment; that we had spoken."

"Arwen has no secrets from him," she said softly, and he smiled.

"Is that a source of discomfort?"

"It was," she acknowledged. "When I first found out that she had told him what had happened I was so angry with her I could hardly speak. I could not stay mad for so long, but I…" She shook her head. "But I realize she was right. What…what good _does_ it do to keep things from you?" Looking up into his eyes, she smiled sheepishly. "You who are to be my husband. That is what Arwen was feeling…and she was right. I should _know,_ at this point, that she usually is."

He laughed. "You know, I generally feel that way about Aragorn. Sometimes, I think he knows me better than I know myself. Annoying."

"But _useful_ ," she added, and he made a face as they reached the bottom step before the guesthouse. She turned to face him. "You are coming in?" she asked, and her voice trembled a little despite the past lightness of their conversation. He stroked her face.

"My dearest Guin," he told her gently, "there is nowhere you could run from me now. Where you go, I shall follow, barely a step behind. And if you pretend you do not wish me to stay, I would never believe you."

She laughed at him, shaking her head. " _Please_ … _please_ stay."

"You need not plead with me." He led her up the steps and held the door for her; she passed him to enter, but held his hand to bring him inside behind her as he shut it. He tugged her to a halt and studied her. "You were unable to find sleep last evening," he whispered, and his hand tucked free strands of hair behind her ear. "You need to rest. Do you want to talk or—?"

Enguina leaned forward and into him, releasing his hand as she slipped both of them behind his head and interlocked her fingers; she felt his hands come to rest on her waist. "I think _I_ have talked enough today," she whispered. "But if you have anything to say, I would like very much to listen."

"I love you," he told her, kissing her gently. Then, he leaned his head back from hers and sighed softly, running his hands along her back. "Why do _you_ not change into your nightclothes, and I shall wait patiently here for you. Then, you shall rest."

She released him and then smiled as she turned away to do as he asked. Knowing that he had plenty to say and was choosing not to say any of it was interesting to her. She was going to have to be patient, though she had hoped her telling him the truth would help him along with the secrets he had chosen, for one reason or another, to keep. She entered her bedroom and began to dress.

Legolas stood, staring down the hall, remaining motionless where she had left him. He was uncomfortable with the silence. It almost felt as though he did owe her _something_ for spilling her heart out to him, and there were only a few things he had kept to himself. He had his reasons. He sighed softly, and then spoke.

"My father and I…do not get along as well as we should."

His Elvish hearing picked up immediately that the shuffling of clothes had stilled. He had to smirk; he had surprised her by telling something that she never would have expected. He could almost imagine her irritation at being unable to see his face.

Her irritation was clear in her response; he did not need to imagine it. "Legolas, you had to choose _this_ moment to say that?"

"I…just decided to tell you," he said honestly.

He was met with a moment of silence and then her voice came from the bedroom. "Why do you not get along?"

"It is…complicated."

" _I_ am complicated. I am used to that, love."

He gave a wry smile at her response and then moved on. "The King and I are too much alike. We are both overprotective men who struggle with our tempers and love our wi—worlds too much." He had been going to say something else; she could tell.

"That does not seem so complicated," she replied softly, opening the door and leaning against the frame. "Is he really all that bad? You keep making me feel as though he is not going to like me."

"He is _not_ bad," he replied, walking over to stand in front of her. "He is _serious_ , as I told you before. And no matter what your worries, no matter what I say, he is going to love you. There is nothing that he could find fault in."

She raised an eyebrow, and the little smile she gave him was worried. "Nothing? Bragolaur is not _nothing_ , Legolas."

"My father has no need to hear that story," he said firmly. "And still, he could find no fault there. If anything, he would feel awful about what had happened. He would not think you, unlike how _you_ find yourself, unworthy of me, of my love. Which, by the way, is utter nonsense."

"Oh, _Legolas_ —"

"So, he is simply more… _serious_."

She smiled. "Then it seems you _are_ different."

Legolas looked a bit wistful. "He was not… _always_ that way. He was content, happy even until…" His voice trailed off, and she could tell he wanted to speak; something was holding him back. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Come and sit with me," she said gently as she took him into her room. He sighed as he followed her.

"Enguina, you are supposed to be resting, and I cannot find a way to talk about this subject," he finished bitterly. She was surprised to hear his tone.

"Then you are talking to the right person." She led him to the bed and sat him down with her. "You _did_ promise to tell me anything about your father I wanted to know," she reminded him, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, his wary, she said, "but I am not going to make you tell me if you do not want to."

"I… _want_ to. It may help you understand him; he can be a difficult person to understand.  
He paused. "Perhaps tomorrow morning, when you have had some rest?"

It was a question. "Legolas, whatever this is haunts you. Each time you try to speak of it, your eyes become sad, your voice hardens…tell me why this hurts you." There was such a stretch of silence that she thought him incapable of telling her. She was not about to push him, and then his voice startled her.

"My father," he told her suddenly, "has always been a brave man, a warrior. He fought alongside Elrond in the great wars of old; drove back Sauron in the dark times along with his father. He is a strong elf, proud, broad-shouldered. He is not a delicate man; and though he has few real passions, they can seem quite trivial. He has always loved his Realm, his family, with his whole heart. He has always given everything for the good of his people. King Thranduil is well-loved by them—"

"And his son?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he replied, his voice grim. "I love him, but…I _lost_ him. Well, we lost each other, I suppose. Some things change life forever, Enguina, as you well know."

"I do."

"Yes," he agreed, "so this will not be very difficult for you to understand, and perhaps it will give you insight. Our relationship changed forever when my mother died." He shook his head. "I am not ready to talk about her yet, to tell the story; it is…for another time, perhaps. But my father…he was forever altered." He said the words sadly, and she reached up to stroke his face. "I have no idea how he survived her death; I have no idea how he made it through those nights. I have no idea why he did not escape to the Undying Lands. We have never spoken of that time since it happened." He shook his head, looking into her eyes. "But losing my mother cost him something… _everything_. After that, he devoted himself to defending the Greenwood, protecting our lands, protecting _me_ as much as he could."

"You were his only son," she said gently.

"As much as he wanted to protect me, my father could hardly look into my eyes without seeing my mother," he told her. "The first…few years were very hard on both of us, and I tried to stay away as much as I could. Since then, he has become far grimmer than he ever was. I could never blame him…I do not _think_ I blame him," he corrected miserably, "I do not know! But I look at you and I see how I could never live if you were gone, and even now I understand his terrible grief over my mother, even over my own. Still, I do not know how he—how he lives without her, how he remains."

Enguina closed her eyes, unable to think of anything except the fact that she had nearly killed herself this morning. If it had not been for Arwen… Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to hold them back. "Legolas, I am so sorry," she whispered. "I am so sorry about what happened."

"One day, I _will_ tell you about my mother," he whispered, but shook his head slowly. "But not tonight, Guin. I do not think I could tell the story under cover of darkness; my heart becomes too heavy." She gently stroked his face with her fingers and studied him.

Enguina _was_ sorry for his mother's death, but she was sorrier for the truth he did not know. _That_ she would _never_ be able to admit to him; she hoped he never found out. He leaned forward and tugged her forehead to his as he sighed. They both closed their eyes.

"That is my story for now, and all I can think of to say for tonight," he told her. "Just a… _caution_ and an apology when it comes to my father."

"You do not need to apologize for him," she replied. "I will help cheer him before the wedding. Everything is going to be so much better than you think."

He raised his eyebrows. "That, coming from someone who is afraid that she will not be liked?"

"Your story gave me insight. I am less worried," she reassured him.

He laughed softly. "It is _far_ past time for you to take some rest," he told her. "Lie down in your bed and…perhaps I can sing softly to you, soothe you to sleep." She obeyed him, knowing how heavy her eyes were. They both shifted about on the bed, her getting beneath the covers, and he rose to pull up a chair beside her. She caught his hand and he looked down into her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"I…" she began, and then he noticed her chewing on her lip, "nothing."

"Say what you need to say. Do not leave it there, _moina_."

"I am embarrassed." She lay on her side facing him with the sheet up to her shoulders, her head on her pillow.

"What? By what?"

"My request," she whispered, and he knew then what it would be. "Will you…will you please lie down with me?" The fingers of the hand that held his trembled, the fingers of the other gripped the bed sheet. She was embarrassed of course, but did she honestly think he could say no?

"Did you think I would refuse you?" he asked her softly, and her face tinged red. "Do not be embarrassed. I would hold you in my arms at the slightest look, Guin." He smiled. "I can hardly stay away as it is."

He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and she watched his back as he began to remove his boots. Standing, he turned back to her as she raised the sheet so he could slide underneath and lay close to her. He took the sheet from her hand—and tucked it down around her. Surprised and a bit ashamed, her blush deepened when he stretched out beside her…on _top_ of the sheet.

"I…" she stuttered, but suddenly realized that she was not sure why she was so embarrassed! Was it because she thought he would have wanted to lie next to her? Was it because she _wanted_ him to lie next to her? Was it not appropriate for him to do so? She felt awkward now, unsure what to say or do; it appeared he understood. "Forgive me…"

Legolas propped his head up with his arm and then began stroking her face with the other hand. "Enguina, your honor is one of the most important things to me," he said gently, giving her a little smile. "I…am trying not to compromise it."

She stared at him and then suddenly looked away, unable to meet his very serious eyes. "Nothing is going to happen, Legolas," she whispered. "You would…you would _never_ …"

"Enguina, what I told you today is the absolute truth," he said softly. "I _do_ wish we were married at this moment. If we were, I would love you all night long with no hurry." He could not be embarrassed by the truth when he spoke, but her blush deepened even more. She felt something in the pit of her stomach and could not decide if it was worry…or something that made her even more worried because she did not understand it. He stroked her hair back from her face. "I do not want you to think that I am only seeking to physically love you," he whispered and she had to look in his eyes. "It is only that I have…I have…" he hesitated, and she could see the fight behind his eyes about whether he should filter himself or not. It was obvious which won out. "I have so much desire for you right now, I do not want to tempt myself and hurt both of us with my carelessness. I honor you, Enguina, and I _want_ to love you that way and give myself to you completely…but…"

She could hear the words he did not say, and so she said them instead. "It would be wrong."

"Yes," he sighed. " _Now_ …it would be wrong. We are not yet married, and even though we have pledged ourselves to one another…no matter _what_ I wish I could…" He sighed, frustrated. "Ignore me."

"I…can barely understand what I am feeling for you," she admitted softly, in awe of the way she felt…odd, off, her palms were _sweating_. "Maybe I should stop speaking." Her shyness made her look away from him.

"It is all right," he said, and then laughed. "Perhaps _I_ should stop speaking before I say something to offend you."

"Nothing you could ever say in love would offend me. I just…I never thought I could possibly _want_ this, _you_ …perhaps _that_ is why I am so terrified. Perhaps it is because I _do_ want you…d-desire you," she stumbled over the word that Arwen had used, that _he_ had used, "that I feel so… _strange_."

His face flushed with pleasure, not embarrassment, and he smiled ruefully, withdrawing his hand from her face. "Yes, we should _definitely_ stop talking about this."

"Arwen told me that it was… _right_ …to desire you," she murmured, unable to take her eyes from him. "Is she wrong? In the beginning…just weeks ago…I felt ashamed of these feelings—"

"No, no," he disagreed, "you should not feel ashamed of them. In fact, I am rather…is it quite inappropriate to say that I am pleased to hear that you desire me?"

"Ilúvatar, I feel like my head is on fire," she whispered, placing her hand on her cheek and feeling the burn of her discomfiture. "What I must look like! Yes, Legolas, _that_ is inappropriate!"

He gave her a wicked smile. "I _told_ you we needed to get away from this subject. _Now_ is not the time to be talking about it, especially when we are in your bed."

"That…is an excellent point." She paused and then moved her hand to lay it over his heart. "Legolas…it is not only _my_ feelings I cannot understand…it is _yours_."

"You cannot figure out why I desire you?" He shook his head in disbelief. He felt such a sudden heat rush through his body, but he forced himself not to touch her. _Lord! Give me strength._ "Guin, I am sorry that I cannot _possibly_ describe to you all the reasons why, or the ways, I desire you. In fact, it would not only be _completely_ inappropriate, but...I would very much embarrass you _and_ myself…and I think on that, you should go to sleep."

"Will you tell me once we are married?" she asked softly, fingering the ends of his hair.

"Yes," he reassured her, struggling with his own self-control. He did not want to risk it; he did not want to risk frightening her.

"That will have to be enough; two weeks?"

He groaned. "Thirteen days." Legolas stared down at her and closed his eyes as she stroked his jaw. _Torture…Ilúvatar, do I need to go and stand out in the rain?_ "Time for bed."

"Are you all right?" She had felt his jaw tighten beneath her fingers.

"Perfect," he said, rolling his eyes beneath their lids. "Go to sleep, _moina_."

She tucked her hand beneath her chin and smiled at him. "I love you."

"I love you," he repeated, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, and trying to shove away his feelings as far as he could get them.

* * *

It was not too long after Legolas and Enguina left that Aragorn and Arwen had made their way inside to dress for bed. Standing in their bedroom, Aragorn began changing, Arwen in the bath sitting near the mirror. He could hear the brush running through her hair and it made him smile. It also made him think that he would like to be the one doing that…but with his fingers…preferably while planting kisses all along her bare shoulders and collarbone.

He shook his head, nearly laughing at his own reckless thoughts. They had been so exhausted last night, but he knew they had been better rested today as they had slept later. Aragorn avoiding meeting with the Council completely had thrilled them both, and she had remained sleeping longer with her head on his heart. Tonight…he could not help feeling as though he wanted her to hear her own blood pounding in her ears. Picking up a button-down tunic, he swallowed hard and headed towards the bath. Was he wrong to be thinking this way tonight? But no, they had not made love for some time, and what, pray tell, was wrong with desiring your wife?

When he arrived, he rested his shoulder upon the doorframe and watched her quietly brushing. His shoulder felt in fairly good condition today, and he could not help as he stood there, to be utterly distracted by her beauty, her gracefulness. He _desired_ her tonight…the way she had leaned back against his legs outside, the way the moonlight had glistened off the skin of her throat as she laid her head across his knee, her hair flowing down behind her as he ran his fingers through it. He swallowed again. These thoughts were _not_ helping him regain some calm!

"I do not think we will see Enguina tonight," Arwen said, continuing to brush and completely oblivious to his obvious distraction. "Legolas is bound to spend every minute of every night with her until they are wed. And he should."

He nodded. "He will. I do not think he would have last night either if Faramir had not made it clear it was a bit improper."

"It is not as though he is taking her to bed," she spoke more softly. "Legolas would never lay harm to her honor." She shook her head. "She is too afraid anyway."

"That comes as no surprise," Aragorn said with a bit of a smile, "with everything that has happened to her and that she has no knowledge of love-making in general. We would not know anything about what that _last_ feeling is like." She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"Thank Ilúvatar we got past _that_ barrier," she groaned softly, raising an eyebrow. "God, what an _awful_ feeling—"

"It was not awful," he said defensively, standing straight to walk over to stand behind her. "It was…a _learning experience_."

She met his eyes through the mirror, her chin tilted up and to the side. "Oh…I learned quite a _lot_." She took in the sight of him, impossible not to notice the strength of his body, or the fact that his tunic was still unbuttoned, showing every muscle in his torso.

"Still learning," he murmured, and he lifted a hand to run it along her arm very slowly, moving up towards her shoulder. He felt her hold her breath and watched as she closed her eyes, his touch causing her skin to flush with pleasure.

He could not help himself; it was simply too tempting. He slowly bent over her shoulder and kissed her throat, below her jawbone…and continued planting kisses, feeling the blood now pulsing through her neck. She dropped the brush to the floor and her fingers found his hair as she raised her arm, combing down through it and dragging her nails slowly through his beard. Even with the chair between them, she could feel the heat of him against her back, and his desire was so loud in her head that she could not help but smile.

Feeling him slip the nightdress from her left shoulder and continue the inevitable kissing, she was right there with him. It felt as though it had been _months_ since they had made love, and even so, she would not have ever wanted to stop what she was feeling for him right now.

"What more is there for you to learn?" she asked, nibbling her lower lip at the press of his kisses on her skin. "You are so good at this already."

"I…wanted to sound as though I had control over this situation," he whispered into her shoulder, but then shook his head, his lips and nose brushing back and forth against her skin. "I do not."

 _If you do not, who does?_ She meant to speak it aloud, but the words never came out her mouth, only echoing in his head. Instead, she found herself maneuvered from the chair and into his arms, pressing herself against him, slipping her hands around his ribs and beneath the tunic as her lips moved to his. The nightdress lay on the floor behind her; she must have knocked the other shoulder off as she moved.

He was not about to complain. Groaning softly as she pressed against him, he wound his hands into her hair, drawing her even more tightly to his mouth. She trembled hard when the edges of his thumbs brushed her ears.

" _Ilúvatar…_ " she whispered, " _you undo me_."

She moved forward herself and kissed against his skin as he had hers, but she was so tangled up in him already that she stumbled, pushing him backwards until he was flat against the wall. He wanted to laugh, but he could not, so moved, so distracted by her hands on his skin and how much he _wanted_ to be with her. His hands ran down her back, massaging her bare skin; he did not want to stop touching her.

"We should move to the other room," he murmured, her lips beneath his chin, "before—"

"Before what?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him. His eyes were dark and intense, much like hers. She nudged the tunic from his shoulders and the smooth fabric slipped from his skin. "You have a few layers of clothing that are unnecessary," she whispered, her voice low.

"We are going to end up here all night," he told her, nearly certain of it now.

"Not _all_ night," she murmured back, capturing his lips again in hers for a long kiss. When they were breathless, she broke it off to speak. "Just _now_ …I do not want to stop long enough for the walk and my knee is sore. _You_ started here. If you had wanted to move," she teased him easily, "you should have waited until I came in our bedroom."

"You completely distracted me, _vanimelda_ ," he protested as she pressed herself against him again. "What can a man do?"

She ran her hands from his ribs, up his chest, and past his heart to his neck. "Continue to learn, I suppose," she whispered, tilting her head down to kiss his neck near her hands as she lifted his chin with her thumbs. "There are times I think I know your body better than my own." Her left hand made its way down to his shoulder, studying the new wound from the branch with her fingers.

"I know yours," he murmured, dropping his hands even lower to the small of her back. "I have memorized every bit of you. _Let me lay you down and show you._ "

"I welcome that. What did you have in mind?" she asked, still kissing him, her hands traveling as his were. She looked into his eyes and his were shining, full of his devotion to her.

"Loving you until I have no strength left," he replied honestly, and she laughed softly, deciding to give up on conversation and eagerly give in to him. Pressing herself against him again, he growled low in her ear and she laughed. " _You_ undo _me_ ," he whispered passionately, running his hands up her back to curl his fingers up and around her ears, brushing the tips and making her tremble. "Perhaps I should stop now…and we should sleep," he teased her.

"As if you could," she breathed out in his ear, her voice grew tight as his fingers toyed with the ends of her ears and he chuckled. She could hardly control herself, her hands tightening on the back of his neck. Her eyes were dark with passion and the pleasure of his touch as she murmured, "But stop now, and you will rue the day you scorned me."

He laughed as his hands swept down to her hips.

* * *

Legolas knew it was happening before it happened. He had expected it; from all their talk of Bragolaur today, there was no way she was not going to have a dream.

" _No…please…no…_ "

She was muttering in her sleep, but in his head he could hear her whispering for him. That was what had woken him; he was grateful that the dream had not progressed far enough that she was to the most painful part—he might still be able to wake her. Her body began to tremble, and he reached out and slipped his arms around her, tugging her to him.

The tightness constricting her woke her immediately. She gasped and lashed out once, hitting him square in the chest with her fist before she realized what was happening. " _Oh…_ " she huffed out, staring at his throat, the collar of his tunic. Then tears flooded her eyes and she closed them tight, lowering her forehead very slowly to his collarbone.

"It was just the dream," he whispered. "Everything is all right."

" _You are here,_ " she breathed out slowly, as she felt Legolas's hands caressing her back. " _You_ are here, not him."

"That is right."

"And it was only the dream," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, his chin bumping the top of her head.

"And…I am safe."

"Very."

Forcing the blanket aside to free her hands was a chore, but she successfully managed after three tries, tucking herself ever closer to him. She focused on breathing and slowing her racing heart. "I am probably going to have several more of these tonight," she whispered.

He swallowed; it _killed_ him to see her this way, and now to _know_ what she was seeing was even worse. Did she relive that same experience every time? Did he _always_ come for her the same way? Did no one ever rescue her? "Do you always see him?" he asked her gently, bringing his warm hand up beneath her hair and resting it against her neck.

She nodded. "It is _always_ him now, Legolas," she said tiredly, and he felt her lashes brush his throat as she closed her eyes. "He is always waiting there…ready to have me." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. " _Any way he chooses_."

"I swear," he promised, kissing the top of her head, "that I will be here forever to stop him."

She was silent for a moment. "Thank you," she sighed, and he could hear she was nearly ready to fall back to sleep. He said no more, and she finally drifted back to sleep in the comfort of his arms.

* * *

"Aragorn, you _have_ to let me get up," Arwen laughed as she tried to roll away from him. Thinking he was going to be exhausted, she thought this would be easy, but it was proving difficult; his hands kept touching her, prodding her to stay. They _had_ to get up; the two of them had spent the morning out with the Council, but then returned to the House to prepare for dinner. She _never_ should have agreed to come back this early; she _never_ should have allowed him to return them to the state they had been in last night; and she _never_ should have let him keep her here for half-an-hour longer when she had told him the _last_ time they needed to be moving. She tried to move, but his hands were still holding her tight, one hand behind her knee, the other— _Ilúvatar, forgive me!_ " _Aragorn_ —" she half-squealed, half-moaned.

" _Arwen…_ "

"You _have_ to let me get up," she insisted, groaning. He was kissing her ears, his face buried in her hair, and she was having a hugely difficult time convincing _herself_ of a desire for him to stop. How many times had they made love between now and last night? She was going to be so _sore_ tomorrow she would barely be able to walk, her knee, her back—forget it and curse her whole lower body! What did _she_ care if they were late, if every muscle in her body ached from giving herself to him—what did she care? His shoulder would be stiff from holding her, but he did not seem to mind. What difference did it make?

And then the bells rang out and she realized how late it _truly_ was. _God, your hands, your hands! Stop, Aragorn! That is driving me mad!_

 _With desire…_ "Mmm," he murmured into her throat now and her head fell back; she was breathless.

She shifted her body, trying to slip away, the half of her mind with a sense of propriety and common sense trying to win out. " _You have to stop that!_ "

"I do? Why?"

"We promised our friends they could always have dinner here!"

He lifted his head, but not far enough so that she could look at him, just so he could kiss her jaw. "It was not a fair promise," he murmured. "I _cannot_ let go of you."

"We have not…" she lost track of her thought, exhaling hard. "We need to be _sensible._ "

"You are asking me to think rationally, which I believe myself incapable of at this moment."

"What if Enguina and Legolas were to come here _now_?" she pleaded softly. "They would not understand. They would go hungry."

"I think they are intelligent enough to make sense of a locked door, beloved," he teased her, finally lifting his head. "Even the dwarf could understand _that_."

"We must _bathe_ yet before we are dressed," she said, and then laughed when his beard tickled her. "Oh, _Aragorn!_ We will not have enough _time_ to bathe and dress!" He knew there was no returning to the mood when she was so focused on their friend's imminent arrival. The teasing was done.

"May I help you bathe at least, then?" he asked and she looked pointedly at him, feeling the touch of his hands and biting her lower lip.

"What do _you_ think?"

"Yes." His voice was full of hope.

"I will let you try again."

"What about helping you get dressed?"

Her nails tightened in his shoulder. "My patience has worn out, Aragorn."

He chuckled and released his hold on her so she could slip out of bed to her feet, stretching her back and groaning. "Ugh…my back is sore," she muttered, and he laughed.

"I can help with that—"

"No!" she yelped, hopping away from his reaching fingers and holding out her hands to stop him. Then she reached down and grabbed her knee, hissing, and only setting her toes down on the floor. "Honestly, have you not done enough damage for one day?"

He gave her a wicked smile. "The day is not yet done, love. I could rub your knee as well. You _are_ sore," he said, looking a bit guilty as he stretched out across the bed the wrong direction, his feet hanging from the one side. He stared at her, unable to look away.

"Your shoulder will be shortly," she replied, gathering fresh clothes and trying to avoid meeting his gaze. "Now, go and get your clothes and be ready to bathe in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" he laughed incredulously. "That is the fastest bath that I think you have ever taken."

"That is all the time we _have!_ " she cried, leaving the room without looking back at him as he continued to chuckle. "Legolas will probably be here _any_ minute and—"

"Calm down, calm down. We will be ready for them," he said soothingly, getting to his feet as well and following her orders.

* * *

In truth, Aragorn heard the knocking and the voices _just_ as he was getting out of the bath and it was certain that it was the elf and his betrothed as well. He came into the dining room easily when he was ready, and seeing Arwen's cheeks flushed, he assumed Legolas had been teasing her. Enguina however, clearly noticing they were running late, had immediately began helping Arwen prepare for dinner. Arwen glanced at him, a _clear_ I-told-you-so, and he felt…reasonably guilty, as he supposed she had hoped he would feel.

"You are a bit wet, my friend," Legolas said on the side to him, and Aragorn smiled comfortably and leaned in towards him, eying him carefully.

"Legolas, when you have wed Enguina, and your experience is as my experience," he whispered, "you will know what it is to be late…and not worry about what anyoneelse thinks, especially your friends."

"Cannot even be properly embarrassed, can you?" the elf asked with a smirk.

"I cannot wait to see you three or four mornings after your wedding," Aragorn replied dryly.

"Three or four—?"

"We will not see you before then," he stated with confidence, and then turned away to see what Enguina was doing. Legolas shoved him gently, but then began to prepare the table for dinner. "Enguina, how are you both today?"

She glanced up at him as she was chopping some celery, trying to smile. "We...our sleep was a bit broken."

Arwen covered her chopping hand. "Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

"Legolas was with me," she said softly, and Aragorn stepped closer to her. "He kept reminding me that I was safe. He would wake me before…before things could get too ugly."

"She did not injure herself last night at least," Legolas said in the same quiet voice. "I think this is a step forward." Enguina forced a laugh.

"There was no—running?" Arwen asked, her eyes full of worry, and Enguina shook her head, her eyes widening in caution toward her. _No, Arwen! Do not mention_ _ **that!**_

"Running?" Legolas questioned immediately, understanding that there was clearly something he was supposed to miss in that exchange. "Where would she have been running _to_ exactly?"

"You…" Arwen began, frowning at her, "you did not tell him?"

Enguina groaned, dropped the knife, and rested her forehead against the back of one hand. "Not about _that_ , Arwen! You are supposed to be my _friend!_ Why would I tell Legolas such a thing?"

"Is this need to know?" Legolas asked, a bit miffed as he crossed his arms. "Because I have every right to know anything that pertains to you."

Enguina raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. "When did you acquire that right?"

"When we agreed to wed, _moina_ ," he replied sweetly. "Just as you have every right to my secrets—not that I have many, mind you."

"I think it is all right if Legolas does not know," Aragorn said softly, and Legolas turned his head so fast to look at him that he thought his head might fall from his shoulders. "I am not saying she should _not_ tell you, I mean that I feel as though it is over already. She would not ever do something like that again."

"That was very _unhelpful_ , Aragorn," Legolas complained. "One of you needs to speak of it."

"Because of the dream, Enguina headed for the Embrasure," Arwen told him. Legolas felt his breath catch and his heart plummet to his toes; he noticed Enguina could not meet his eyes.

"Wha….wha…how close did she get?"

Arwen looked at him pointedly. " _Close enough_ ," came her reply. "Legolas, I do _not_ believe that it will happen again," she added quietly, "but you need to be aware. To just be ready to—"

"It will _not_ happen again," Enguina said immediately, and Legolas looked to her, worry plain upon his face. " _I_ _promise_ ," she swore softly, cursing Arwen for her honesty. He covered her hand briefly and then moved away, saying nothing else. She knew that it meant there would be a conversation later. She would have no escape from him when they were alone in the guesthouse.

Legolas and Aragorn made their way to the table and were seated tearing apart some meat for the stew when Enguina made her way to stand beside Arwen again. " _What the hell is the matter with you?_ " she whispered angrily, and Arwen gave her a woeful look.

"I am sorry you are so angry," she whispered back. "I cannot lie about what happened. I came back here that morning and cried for over an hour. I was afraid you would do it again."

"Not after our conversation!" she growled. "Why would I when I had already spoke to Legolas and told him the truth?"

"Because the dreams are not gone, Enguina," Arwen said, exasperated. "Who knows if you may have one again that becomes too much?"

"It will _not_ ," she said determinedly, and suddenly her cheeks seared with color. "Legolas is sharing my bed; there is no way he would let me run from the room. I would never get to the door without him catching me." Arwen was silent for a moment, as though absorbing the thought of the two of them in bed together before the wedding; at least that was what she appeared to be doing and it only fueled Enguina's irritation. "You know," she said waspishly, "you would have had no trouble before with that if—"

"Peace, Enguina," Arwen interrupted her with a voice overloaded with long-suffering. "You do not even give me a chance to speak and then you immediately leap to the wrong conclusions. I have no problem with you and Legolas making whatever choice is best for you, in fact, I am thrilled about it." She glanced up and met her eyes for a moment, and her face remained serious when she said, "You need to stop lunging for my throat. I am not here to hurt you or feed you to the dogs, and I am sorry that my worry for your well-being overrides my worry for your anger at me."

Enguina realized that Arwen _was_ right. A few hours ago, she had been feeling guilty that she had been nasty to Arwen, and here she was doing it again. She lowered her chin and looked suddenly sad, even though Arwen was not looking. "I _am_ sorry," she whispered. "Sometimes my…temper…gets the better of me. I do not mean to be so…rude and ungrateful. I only…I cannot stop thinking that Legolas does not need to know everything about me every waking moment, and that you all seem so intent on telling him everything. He did not need to know that."

"Aragorn took your side," Arwen replied. "You can take comfort in that, I suppose."

Enguina rolled her eyes. "Well, you _did_ say you did not think it would happen again, so I should take comfort in _that_. You do not think me so mad as to try and take my life when Legolas is right before me."

"You are not mad at all," Arwen began to insist, but she did not continue. Instead, she moved to the table to collect some of the meat Legolas and Aragorn had cut so she could dump it into the stew. Enguina watched her. When she had arrived, Arwen had seemed revitalized, refreshed…as she had several months before. Now, she seemed tired, almost sad again…depressed. She was determined that she would set things right through this meal.

* * *

Gimli sat at the table now, laughing with Aragorn and Legolas as Arwen finished grilling the pan cakes they were to have with their meal. Éowyn would be pleased, she thought, as they were one of her favorite foods; she was cooking them especially for her as she had not been feeling well and they were coming tonight with Annî.

"Lass, those smell mighty good!" laughed the dwarf. "When can I eat one, eh?" The sparkle in his eyes at the delight of getting a cooked meal by her made her forget to worry about Éowyn and smile at him.

"As soon as they are finished, Gimli," she said with a laugh, "which will be very shortly." She shot a glance over her left shoulder, "Why do you not eat some of the fresh fruit on the table?"

"It'll taste better with the cakes," he said, but then he shrugged and turned around. "What about the stew? Can I eat some of that?"

"No, Gimli," said Legolas, rolling his eyes. "You can wait with the rest of us to say grace and until Faramir and crew decide to arrive."

The crew arrived shortly. Éowyn was considering herself two now, since she kept saying she ate as though she was two people. That was always said with slight embarrassment where Faramir always reached over and rubbed her back in a consoling sort of way. There was some color in Éowyn's face tonight, and they were all pleased to see that. Faramir drew a chair to the table for her as Aragorn held Annî; she was laughing in his face and he kissed both cheeks. He brought her over to Arwen so the elf could give her a kiss and then he set her down so she could run and give hugs to the rest of their large family.

"She is growing so fast," sighed Faramir and Aragorn nodded with a laugh.

"Indeed," he replied, and then felt Faramir give him a light punch to the arm.

"Éowyn and I heard about that excitement you got our little girl into. Be careful at the Anduin, my friend."

Aragorn gave him a mock frown. "Ah, she told you? The little sneak; and Arwen and I had worked so hard to teach her to keep a secret."

Faramir smacked him in the arm, but then grew serious. "Éowyn's heart nearly failed when Annî told the story. Thank Ilúvatar that Brego was there, that you and Arwen were able to protect her." He clasped his arm. "I finally understand what the Elvish word for guardian means."

"You understood before," Aragorn acknowledged softly, "it is only that it was used, put in play, that you _see_ it. Arwen would have died to protect her…we both would have."

"I know," Faramir replied, and Éowyn covered her ears.

"Please, speak of it no more, both of you," she murmured. "I cannot stand the thought of it. If either one of you had done such a thing, I would never have been able to forgive myself."

"You would have had nothing to do with it," Aragorn told her, and he reached out and touched her hair, "and nothing to say about it if it had happened, I am afraid, Éowyn. But fret not; you are here now, so there is no reason why your husband cannot give _his_ life instead." Faramir shoved him in the shoulder.

"Please," Éowyn begged, "stop teasing me."

"Yes," Arwen added from the stew pot. "Leave her be and let her rest, both of you." She placed the cakes on a plate and set them on the table as everyone began to take their seats. "The cakes are done."

"Food!" cried Gimli, and Faramir laughed as he watched the dwarf fill a plate.

They said grace and began eating and Faramir leaned in closer to Aragorn and away from his wife, as Enguina inquired after how she was feeling. "Éowyn has not been feeling very well these past few days. She is not due for a few more weeks, so I am…worried."

"It might very well be nothing," Aragorn replied in a low voice.

"Yet it is enough to keep me worrying," he sighed. "Annî was difficult enough; I worry so for her." He flashed a look over his shoulder, and then looked back at Aragorn. "I tried to talk her into stopping at the Houses this morning, but…you know how _that_ went."

"She would have none of it. I am not surprised," Aragorn admitted, and then he rested a hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Try not to worry, Faramir. Women understand their bodies better than we do. She will go if there is something wrong or something feels off…she would never let any harm come to that child."

Faramir smiled. "Yes, that is my Éowyn."

"Faramir, what are you saying about me?" she asked from behind him, tugging on his ear.

"Ouch," he said, and titled his head so she could not reach him. "Nothing dearest."

"How could it be nothing when I heard my name?"

"Come now, Éowyn," said Enguina with a laugh, "I am sure that Faramir was complimenting you to Aragorn. Were you not, Faramir?"

"Oh indeed!" Legolas laughed as well. "Please, Faramir, tell us all what lovely things you were saying about your wife."

"Oh, I think I will keep them to myself, thank you," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Probably not appropriate for our ears!" hollered Gimli, and Annî laughed at his loud, booming voice. Faramir rolled his eyes as Gimli made some silly faces at Annî, causing her to continue giggling and make them back.

"Oh Gimli, do not teach her that," groaned Éowyn.

"I think it unlikely Gimli will teach her anything that has not already been taught by your husband," added Legolas with a grin.

"Legolas, when is your father arriving?" asked Arwen softly. "It is only eleven days before the wedding and he is not here yet."

"I have no idea," he glanced at her and gave a nervous little smile, a bit out of place on his face. "Perhaps he is _not_ coming and I simply assumed he would be here."

Enguina laid a hand on his arm. "Of _course_ he is coming," she assured him. "As if he would miss his son's wedding!"

"And what of Éomer?" asked Gimli. "He isn't here yet either!"

"Who is Éomer again?" questioned Enguina. "Forgive me, there are so many names I do not know."

"My brother," Éowyn replied, thinking of him fondly. "I have not seen him now in several years." She frowned. "He and I were always very close. It makes me feel guilty."

"You do lead separate lives now, my love," Faramir reminded her, "with very different responsibilities."

"I suppose Erumar is not going to come," Enguina said with a bit of a sigh. "I was so hoping she might just…show up."

"She may yet, Enguina," Arwen murmured. "Do not give up on her yet."

Faramir realized that Éowyn was really only moving the food around her plate. He was not the only one who noticed. "Are you not hungry, dearest?"

"I was," she said softly, staring down at the food turning her stomach, "but…" She shook her head. "I am not feeling very well at the moment."

"Mommy, are you sick?" asked Annî.

"Mommy is tired, sweetheart," she replied with a weak smile.

"You do seem a bit pale," Legolas pointed out, and Éowyn nodded.

"Please excuse me; I am poor company for this evening." She sighed and swallowed. "I should have stayed home and let Faramir and Annî come."

"We would not have left you at home," Faramir insisted, but worry creased his brow. Aragorn stood and went to stand beside Éowyn's chair.

"You can rest in the other room, Éowyn, if you would like to lie down. You are more than welcome."

"No, no, I am all right," she murmured, but she rested her head against the back of her hand, and then Arwen stood as well.

"Let me get you a pillow, Éowyn, and you can lie on the divan."

"We insist," Aragorn said, and Faramir stood to help her to her feet. Enguina watched her carefully as Faramir began to walk with her, Aragorn only a step ahead. Arwen came in and took Éowyn's arm, stepping in front of Faramir.

"Go, eat," she said. "Let me take her." Faramir hesitated, but Éowyn nodded.

"Listen to her," she said, reaching up to touch Faramir's face. "I will be fine." He kissed her palm and then turned back to the table to catch Annî at his feet.

"Daddy, can I go with Mommy?" she asked and he smiled.

"Of course you can. She is going to lie down; do you want to stay with her?" She nodded and Faramir stepped out of her way.

"Follow Tirion, all right?" Faramir watched her run from the room and then took his seat at the table. He groaned as he sat, saying, "Ugh…women can be so stubborn."

Legolas smiled, but Enguina's features remained concerned. "She does not seem well at all. Is she all right, Faramir?"

"Neither one of us slept well last night; Annî was awake with several… _odd_ …dreams. We took turns trying to get her to sleep, but it was a very long night." He shook his head. "If I knew anything about birthing children, which I seriously do not…I would say this child is going to be early."

"Is that all right?" asked Enguina.

"What are your thoughts, Aragorn?" Faramir asked as Aragorn returned to the room and resumed his seats again. "You know a _bit_ more than I do. Do you think the child will be early?"

"A _bit_ ," Aragorn said softly. "We will not know yet if she will be early, though she seems to be larger than she was with Annî and she is carrying the child lower—"

"And she has been under more stress than she was with the last," Legolas admitted.

"That is also true," Aragorn replied and Arwen entered the room. He looked up at her. "Éowyn is resting comfortably now?"

"She was asleep in moments," she replied, taking her seat as well. She looked up and caught Enguina's eye. "Enguina, do you have plans for Wednesday morning?"

"Um…no?"

"How about swimming in the Anduin?" Arwen asked her. "Tomorrow, Aragorn and I are in the City, but on the following day I am free. I know we were speaking of riding there and swimming the horses. Would you like to come?"

"Would I ever," replied Enguina, grinning. "Yes! That would be wonderful."

"But you don't like water!" cried Gimli, confused. "Why would that interest you at all?"

"It is different," Enguina tried to explain. "On horseback, everything is different."

"I still don't get it," complained Gimli, shaking his head.

"If I may," began Legolas, "is it possible I can invite myself?"

"No," laughed Arwen, "you may not! I want to take Enguina to the Anduin; consider it a ladies' day out…with no male interference."

Legolas laughed and raised his hands. "Fine, fine! Exclude me."

"We did," Enguina giggled and nudged him with her elbow.

"It probably is _not_ the greatest idea to go swimming down there alone—" began Faramir.

"Do not _worry_ ," Arwen said softly. "Asfaloth and Lómë will keep watch over us."

"And Arwen will keep watch over Enguina," added Aragorn, clapping his hands together. "There now! Nothing to worry about."

"Honestly?" asked Enguina, narrowing her eyes at Aragorn. "I never forget a teasing comment that I would like to exact revenge for."

"She is not lying about that," Legolas sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She _never_ forgets."

Enguina slapped him with the back of her hand in the stomach and he flinched and laughed. "Where is that perfect Legolas posture?"

He shrugged. "I am trying to relax, _moina_. You should try it sometime."

She rolled her eyes. "How am I going to put up with this every day for the rest of my life?"

"The same way you are doing it now," said Faramir, "and because of some delightful twist of fate and for reasons even _you_ cannot fathom, you adore and love the mad elf."

Arwen laughed and smiled. "Oh, it _is_ nice to be home, is it not?"


	36. Chapter 36

Lying in bed and watching Legolas in the moonlight shining in through the window were two of Enguina's favorite things. She had discovered this nearly two months ago when he had remained in her home long before they had even discussed him doing it. Unsure what it was exactly that made her heart flutter, she simply enjoyed it. At the moment, he was reading a book and she, who he assumed was asleep, was secretly watching him. Or, as it turned out, not so secretly.

"Since you are not sleeping yet," Legolas said softly, "I suppose I can still talk to you."

"It depends," she whispered back.

He lowered the book and raised his eyebrows. "On what?"

"On what you want to talk about."

"You and the Embrasure."

" _Definitely_ not," she replied, closing her eyes. "Good night."

He set the book down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We need to."

" _No_."

"We need to," he repeated.

"No, we do not," she denied adamantly. "I do not have to say anything else about it. I am tired. I want to sleep."

"A moment ago, you were lying there staring at me. _Now_ you are tired?"

She groaned. " _Stop._ You are even more stubborn than I am. I could just… _kill_ Arwen sometimes," she complained. "Can you not forget she said anything?

"This is not something I can forget about."

"You were not supposed to hear it to begin with, to find out about it," she mumbled, refusing to open her eyes. She could already tell how hot her cheeks were; how red her face must appear!

"So you never would have told me?" The sorrow in his voice was plain. "You never would have said a word if Arwen had not slipped by accident?"

"It does not matter."

"It _does_." She glared at him, but he did not flinch. "It matters _hugely_."

"It happened, but nothing _happened_ ," she stated. "It was the same night that Arwen and I argued. If you must know, she and I argued out at the Embrasure—"

"The argument," Legolas began incredulously, "made you want to—"

"No, the argument was _after_." She sighed and opened her eyes. " _Must_ we talk about this? Why is it so important to you?"

"Why?" he asked softly, and she suddenly had the distinct impression that he was _furious_. " _Why?_ Because the woman I love and adore thought her life was so deplorable, so undeniably unbearable that she could think of nothing else to do with herself but throw her body from the seventh level of Minas Tirith. For Heaven's sake, Guin, why is this important to me? We are getting _married_ in less than two weeks!" He rubbed his face hard with his hands and hid his eyes from her. "It is like you do not even think about the fact that we are about to share _everything_ …and I do mean _everything_ …and you keep forgetting that I exist."

She looked horrified, sitting up. "I— _what?_ "

He smiled grimly at her. "Perhaps I did not mean that quite the way it sounded."

"I should _hope_ not!"

He sighed and reached out, taking her hands in his own. "Enguina, you are used to doing everything on your own, for yourself, and finding that you do not have the strength to do it alone. Can you not trust me? Can you not… _lean_ on me for help, for strength?" He looked up into her eyes. "I _want_ to help you. Why did you not run to _me_ when you had the dream? No, instead, you ran for the fastest way out—"

"It was easy," she said bluntly. "Legolas, did you not hear the story I spent nearly all day crying over yesterday?"

"Yes," he said gently, "I heard it."

She shook her head. "I am not _fixed_ , Legolas. I am just as broken as I was three days ago; in some ways, even _more_ broken. The dreams are _worse_ and there is only one reason I am not running for that Embrasure _right now_ , never mind last night when they were happening. The _only_ reason is _you_." Tears pooled in her eyes. "I ran for the edge of my existence that night because I could not cope with the pain. I had nothing to fall back on; I felt abandoned, exhausted, and I could see no end in sight. I thought that the faster I leapt, perhaps the faster I would see the end of it all. I just wanted it to stop.

"And that was the moment Arwen came upon me, just as I was about to hurtle hundreds of feet to my death," she whispered. "I said some…awful things to her, and she told me the truth about a great many things, as you already know. I told her that everyone would go on living without me."

"That is not—"

"I _know_ , Legolas," she said, sighing with her whole body. "Remember, this happened days ago."

" _One_ day ago, _moina quén_." He looked at her pointedly. "You have some very mistaken impressions about how I love you."

"Perhaps someday," she whispered, "I will come to understand the way you love me, and feel deserving of it…though I cannot imagine ever feeling as though I deserve it."

"Guin, you cannot possibly comprehend how much I love you, how much I need you in my life." He looked down at their hands and swallowed hard. "I cannot stop picturing you, running towards the Embrasure as though Bragolaur was chasing you, reaching for you. I cannot imagine a day in my life where I no longer have you beside me. I…" He shook his head. "Guin, your death would destroy my heart."

"Arwen told me that," she whispered. "She told me and I did not even want to listen. I was so angry…but after our _fight_ …I realized that she was right, that I needed to tell you the truth. So I did." She reached up and touched his face. "Legolas, I cannot…I cannot tell you how _sorry_ I am that I did not think through what I was doing. I reacted to the dream, so tired and full of agony, and I ran without thinking at all. I am more sorry than I can ever say; I never meant to hurt you."

"You never meant for me to find out."

She chewed her lower lip. "No, and I am sorry for that more than for making the choice in the first place. I thought you would be angry—"

"I am," he sighed, and she lifted her head, feeling miserable. "You have to remember we are to be married. We are going to share everything, stories, problems, secrets, a bedroom." He raised his eyebrows. "And you are going to have to come to terms with trusting me with…everything from the clothes you wear to the food you eat, to the most intimate details of your life."

She swallowed uncomfortably. "Does that not bother _you_?"

"I am a little worried about you sleeping on the side of the bed that I most enjoy," he admitted.

She looked terrified, as though she wanted to please him. "I promise I will not—"

"I am teasing you," he said seriously and she blushed furiously. " _Yes,_ I am unnerved by it. I have been alone for so long that I cannot imagine what sharing everything will be like. But do you know what? I am _excited_ to be sharing everything with you…even the annoying or awful things. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know everything about me. And you know what? If there is fear, it will be our fear together. If there is any doubt, it will be our doubt together. Marriage to you is going to be an adventure, and I am going to love every moment of figuring it out with you. All right?"

She looked at him, wondering how in the world she could possibly have become this lucky, wondering what in the world she had done to deserve this man who loved her. "All right," she whispered.

"So _because_ of that, there will _be_ no more late night Embrasure visits unless _I_ am walking with you, and there will be no more running to anyone but me…unless I suddenly become a monster and you do not recognize me for some reason I cannot understand."

She laughed quietly, still trying to steady her emotions. "I _promise_."

"I love you, you know," he whispered, leaning close to her and she closed the gap between their lips. When the kiss had ended, she rested her forehead upon his and sighed softly, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

"I _do_ know, and I love you, too."

* * *

It was three hours after Enguina had left with Arwen to ride near the Anduin. Legolas had offered to come once again, but Arwen had informed him that they were only going for a short ride and then they had 'wedding' things to do, so they would see him for supper. Being on his own for the first time in some time was disturbing, and he hardly wanted to be long from Enguina's side. Four days they had now been back in Minas Tirith and that meant it was now _ten_ days to the wedding. He could not believe it was so _near_ and yet, so _far_ away! And where in the world was his father? Where was Éomer? The questions brought up at last evening's supper table clouded his mind. He hoped he would not have to postpone the wedding because they had not yet arrived!

Shaking his head, he stroked Brethil's nose. The stallion was fully recovered from the injuries he had sustained in the attack from Bragolaur's men and Legolas was very glad to see it. "Brethil, something… _incredibly_ good is going to happen today," he said, rubbing the grey's forehead. "I can feel it. Have you ever had such a day?" Brethil snorted and nosed him hard in the chest. "I can guess that you are wondering why _we_ did not set out with Lómë and Asfaloth today. The _ladies_ wanted some time alone." He rolled his eyes and Brethil sighed low and long. "Yes, my thought exactly."

Legolas leaned against the wall and watched his horse turn back to his hay. Both he and Brethil were recovered, but he still worried immensely for Enguina. Yes, she had come a long way from Bragolaur's attack on her, but she was still recovering and might _be_ recovering for several months yet. Legolas smiled; he knew that it was not only his presence that she needed. She needed to lighten her mood. Perhaps…perhaps _he_ could play a few jokes on _her_ in the next few days. It would not be a bad idea; simple, harmless teases that might make her laugh.

As he leaned against the wall trying to sort out what his plan should be, Brethil came to the front of the stall and stood at attention, poking his head over to get a view of the aisle. He whinnied loudly, a clear greeting, and Legolas patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Honestly, Brethil? Have they returned from the Anduin already?"

He peered over the stall and was suddenly in shock. Walking down the aisle was his father, the King of Eryn Lasgalen, leading his palomino gelding, trailed on his right and left by two guards walking their greys. Dressed in traveling clothes, even dirt could not detract from the handsome figure that Thranduil cut as he came down towards the empty stalls near the end of the barn. The horses were whinnying their greetings as Thranduil drew closer. He was taller even than Legolas, and had always carried himself with a regal air since Legolas was a child. Stronger than almost anyone Legolas had ever known, his flaxen hair cascaded down past his shoulders. Large hands full of power and broad shoulders that led to a ramrod straight spine, his father had always represented what he thought a King should really be. It was Thranduil's green eyes that brought him back to the present. Always, those eyes reminded him of the joy his father once had…and how all of that had been taken away. And in wonderment, he stood, unmoving, confused at the thought that he could bring back joy to Enguina's life—why not his father's?

Ducking underneath the rope keeping Brethil in his stall, Legolas stepped out into the aisle and surprised his father. "Suilaid, Adar," he said, grinning, surprising even himself with how _delighted_ he was that his father was finally here.

"Legolas!" Thranduil exclaimed, and the pleasure of seeing his son came over his face easily. Smiling, he dropped the palomino's reins and reached out for him. The younger elf immediately entered his arms and then two of them hugged hard. Thranduil held him by the upper arms after the hug so he could not move aside. "My boy, it is so _good_ to see you. You look well!"

"As do you, Adar," he replied honestly. Thranduil could see the light in his eyes. "I am _so_ glad you are here. I was afraid you might not arrive in time."

"I was determined to be here," Thranduil stated firmly, then he smirked. "You have grown since I saw you last."

Legolas groaned. "You say that every time you see me."

"It is simply because I only see you once every seven to ten years," Thranduil replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I have been full grown for three thousand years, Adar. Do you not think it is a bit ridiculous?"

"If I saw you more often," he said more sternly, "I might stop." Legolas rolled his eyes and Thranduil smiled. "When I received your notice I was more than a little surprised."

Legolas looked him full in the face and the younger elf's eyes seemed to sparkle. "I…I am _finally_ getting married," he said, his voice full of awe. "Even _I_ cannot believe it. Ten days!"

"Yes," Thranduil said, nodding. "I was…I feel as though there is a giant hole in my knowledge of what has been going on with you in the last seven years. Why did you never write? Why did you not tell me of this woman who has captured your heart?"

Legolas shook his head, blushing. "Adar, it is complicated."

Thranduil laughed and his son looked at him in surprise as he laid a hand upon his face, grinning. "What about love is _not_ complicated, my boy?"

"I _am_ willing to tell the tale," he responded, "but shortly." Legolas looked behind him and grinned as he recognized the two guards, Fânrim and Otsul, and greeted them both warmly. The two elves were also blonde-haired but aside from that appeared nothing alike. "Could not my father journey alone?" he teased, and Fânrim shook his head.

"Prince Legolas, I would be unfitting of my duties if I were to allow your father to travel alone."

"No matter what I tried to convince him," grumbled Thranduil.

Legolas smiled. _Yes,_ there _you are, my most serious father._ "Well, I am glad you have both come to Minas Tirith as well. I am getting married!"

Fânrim laughed. "Yes, we _know_!"

"Your father held quite the celebration when he discovered it in the last communication you sent," Otsul said and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I think there may have been more liquor at the party than there will be at your wedding!"

"Guaranteed, my friend," Legolas replied, and he looked at his father, raising his eyebrows. "How long did the party last?"

"Until every drop was drained," Thranduil said honestly, picking up the reins of the palomino. "It went on for…well, days." He smiled. "I wish you could have seen it; everyone was rejoicing in your honor."

Legolas smiled, but shook his head. "I would only have been embarrassed." He reached out and patted the golden horse on the neck. "Ah, Maltan," he said as the horse snorted, "how are you?"

"He is well, though this will be his last, long journey," Thranduil explained. "It simply is not fair to him anymore, as old as he is. Is that not correct, my old friend?" The richly golden-haired gelding threw his head, and Thranduil smiled.

"Is it only the three of you that came?" Legolas asked softly, glancing around, and Thranduil sighed.

"Yes, do not look for her," he replied gently. "She wanted to come with all her heart, but Tauriel had to remain for her duties." Legolas looked down, thinking he should not say what he was about to, but he could not hold himself back, saddened by the news.

"Is that because you came?"

Thranduil frowned. "The Greenwood must be defended, Legolas," he said, but his voice was soft, not firm. "I know it is difficult for you to understand, but there is no one else I would trust aside from her to defend it without me within the Wood, or you. She sends her deepest wish for your happiness, and is looking forward for you to visit so that she might meet your new wife." Legolas nodded, but said nothing and Thranduil set his hand on his son's shoulder. "She wanted to be here, Legolas, but she was needed."

"Did you make her stay?" He regretted asking the question as soon as it left his mouth, and Fânrim and Otsul were still, waiting for the reply as well. Thranduil felt the world against him.

"Is that what matters to you?" Thranduil asked, frowning even more deeply, hurt by the question, even though he refused to show it. "Even were I to tell you the truth, would you believe me?"

"I would," Legolas said firmly. "I can see truth in your eyes, Adar."

"She chose to stay; she was _needed_. I understand your sadness, but…she does not love you any less by not being here. Do not take it so hard, so personally." He turned Legolas's words around so that the question directed toward him was not answered so directly. He was not lying; Tauriel _had_ chosen to stay. "You are great friends; you always have been, and will see one another soon."

Legolas eyed his father, but could say nothing more. If Tauriel had chosen to stay, then she had chosen to stay…though it did make him sad. Still, his father was here, at least, and if he were to truly be honest with himself, he had known Tauriel would not make the journey anyway.

"Well," he said, sighing, "let me help the three of you settle your horses in, and then perhaps I can begin showing you around a bit of Minas Tirith?"

"Is your bride included in that showing?" Thranduil asked, following him with his eyes as Legolas moved ahead of them. "I expected to find the two of you together." He tried, as Legolas clearly was doing, to put the conversation of Tauriel behind them.

"She and the Queen have taken some time for riding this morning. I am certain that we will see them for dinner, no doubt." He smiled. "In the meantime, you shall have to make-do with only myself for company."

"I think I can manage," his father replied, draping his arm over Legolas's shoulder. The three newcomers walked with Legolas to the empty stalls.

* * *

The morning sun was shining down and the Anduin was flowing loudly as Enguina and Arwen lay side-by-side on the banks of the Anduin while their horses grazed in the lush green grass. It was a gorgeous spring day, and Enguina thought of all of the things she had to do today when they arrived back at the Citadel. They were to investigate three bakeries for some desserts, go to another dress fitting, and then head to the church for some final decorating ideas. Thankfully, Arwen had been willing to join her, for she never would have had the mind to remember to do it all herself. Planning for a wedding was exhausting!

Running her fingers through the long grass above her head, Enguina sighed. She soaked up as much of the sun as she could, being dressed in only her undergarments at the moment. She had been shy at first, with all of her scars from the recent events, but then she figured Arwen already knew of them. Now, feeling better than she had in weeks, she sighed again.

"If only every day could be like today."

Arwen chuckled. "Just think, in a month or so, you can come down here swimming and lie half-naked on the bank with _Legolas_ ," she said slyly. She knew it was coming, but she was still unprepared for Enguina's hand slapping against the skin of her stomach. Arwen flinched and laughed as she rolled onto her side. "I am sorry!"

"You are _not!_ " Enguina cried, rolling her eyes. "And do _not_ talk about swimming. I do not want to experience water like that for at least several more years. I can wait, thank you."

"Dearest, you _were_ just swimming."

"That was on _horseback_ , Arwen; hardly the same situation. Remember when I was trying to explain that to Gimli last night at supper? Lómë will protect me from the water. I nearly drowned in it the last time. Can you not recall?"

"How could I forget?" she asked softly. "I thought Aragorn was dying. The whole event was so terrifying, none of us would ever forget."

"He is always doing that," Enguina said, "doing something utterly mad and then suffering for it."

Arwen laughed. "You have _no idea_."

"How is his shoulder?"

"Better," Arwen replied. "It has not completely healed, but after visiting the Houses upon our return it is finally healing well. I think he needs to rest it more than he does. It is difficult to slow Aragorn down." There was a pleasant silence between them and then Arwen spoke again. "You seem more relaxed than when we came to Minas Tirith from the journey. That makes my heart feel joy."

Enguina hated when she admitted Arwen was right about something, but this could not deny. "Things between Legolas and I have been… _better_ …since that night…except when someone could not keep their trap shut _last_ night about a certain something they should not have mentioned." When she was met with silence, she propped herself up on her elbow and looked at Arwen, fingers deep in the grass. "You were right; I should not have kept it a secret from him…or even _tried_ to. But you were wrong to mention it. I…would have told him."

Arwen did not turn her head to look at her; instead, she kept her eyes closed. "I hope you would have," she replied. "I suppose I need to trust you with your own well-being…but it is…difficult."

Enguina stared at her. "You know, I do not have an excellent history with taking care of myself," she admitted, her voice filled with guilt. "I suppose I cannot blame you for not trusting me."

"I do, however, trust Legolas with you. I was trying to make sure you were taken care of, and I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I thought it was too important to forget to say."

"It was." Enguina dropped back into the grass. "It is only that I would have no reason to do that now; not after clearing the air with Legolas, telling him the truth about what happened. It has not made things any easier, but it _has_ taken away some of the pain and anxiety I have been feeling."

"It has not made things easier?" she asked incredulously. "Is that what you said?"

"Yes," she replied softly. "I have had the nightmare twelve times within the last three evenings. Last night I could hardly sit up, I was shaking so badly." She picked at her own nails and then picked at the grass, trying to find something to do with her hands other than wring them. "I almost retched all over him and the bed and the floor…I had no self-control. If he had not been there, holding me, I _would_ have run out. I _know_ I would have." She looked over at Arwen again to find her studying her face. "Why do I always hurt him?" she asked miserably. "I always say or do the wrong thing. The last thing on earth he would ever do is let me go, yet that is the first thing I ask of him. He always says no, and then I fight with him to release me, and only after several minutes of sheer panic does my mind come back to itself and I remember."

"And not three seconds later you are reaching for him and you cannot get close enough."

"Yes! Why am I _like_ that?"

"It is the war within you. Part of you wants to be alone, to suffer in silence, to wait out the storm and figure it out on your own. The other part wants to run to him, to cling to him and hold on for dear life, to trust him with your pain. These two are always at war, Enguina…and always will be. No matter how long you are married, that will not change."

"I hate it," she growled. "Why can I not trust him as you do Aragorn?"

"There are times when I run to Aragorn, and there are times I try to run away. I will admit that I run _to_ him more often than not. But you must have patience with yourself. You are _learning_ to share your burdens, Enguina, and you are making progress. Legolas has patience enough for you."

"In this, yes…though why I do not know."

" _Love_."

"Ah, yes…love." She sighed. "I cannot believe I am going to be married to Legolas in ten days."

"Is it not wonderful?" laughed Arwen. "I am so unbelievably excited for you, so full of hope."

"Legolas and I were speaking last night about sharing things." Enguina swallowed hard, folded her hands and crossed them behind her head, staring at the sky above her head as she blushed. "I am so worried about that."

"Sharing?"

"Well, sharing _everything_ , yes. Legolas is a very early riser; I am not. What if he enjoys sleeping across the whole bed? How does one…how does one adjust to living life with another person when they have been alone for so long? I cannot imagine it…and I am embarrassed about it."

"It is challenging," Arwen admitted. "Sometimes it is more difficult than others. In the beginning, things can be a bit awkward and privacy is almost non-existent. Eventually, you become… _used_ to that other person, their habits, their way of living and because both of you want to please the other, you compromise, coexist, and make life enjoyable for the other."

"You and Aragorn…" Enguina began, and she stopped herself when she was about to say something about a perfect life. Her embarrassment was plain.

"Thank you," Arwen said softly. "Thank you for holding back. I did not need to hear that again."

"I am sorry," she sighed. "Sometimes I cannot help but feel that your life is so good…and then I remember, and then I am ashamed."

"Your pain is glaring, Enguina. It is standing in front of your face and you cannot see past it. No one expects you to."

"But _you_ are not like that," she replied. "You have had this pain pressing on you for months now, yet you have put it aside to make time for me, to comfort me and give me more grace than I deserve, taking me into your home as well." Arwen was silent, and when she said nothing to further the conversation, Enguina realized that complimenting her friend was useless; it was clear Arwen did not want to talk about her own loss today. Would she ever? She moved on, deciding instead to return to talk about herself.

"I wish I could stop having nightmares about Bragolaur," she whispered, and then smiled. "Instead, I wish I would start dreaming about Legolas and how wonderful it will be once we are wed. But…I cannot seem to be rid of the negative. I hate it; I wish I could wake feeling something other than terror, sadness."

Arwen smiled slyly. "Perhaps you could wake feeling some _desire_ if you were dreaming of Legolas."

Enguina rolled her eyes. "Honestly? There is already enough of that to go around." Arwen glanced at her and watched a red flush cover her face and throat.

Eyebrows raised, Arwen propped herself up on her arm. "Is there a story to be told here?"

"Not really. Legolas was just…he was trying to be very serious about my honor but I felt so…so _strange_." She sighed. "He was struggling not to touch me; I _know_ he was and before I fell asleep there was something in his eyes…"

"That is your desire for him, Enguina," she told the older elf gently, "and his for you."

"Bragolaur's desire is all I have ever known, Arwen, and that has always disgusted me. Why is it different that Legolas wants me? Is it not the same desire?"

"No," Arwen explained. "Legolas loves you, truly, Enguina, but Bragolaur did not. He desired you for one thing alone, to use…and then to cast you aside." She shook her head, disgusted. "Legolas, on the other hand, loved you first…and because of that love, now desires you. The love you share with Legolas is a mutual respect for one another. You _care_ for each other, and that is what matters. Bragolaur did not care if he wounded you."

Enguina watched her for a moment as Arwen's eyes remained on the sky. "I wish _you_ had not been the one to take his life. I wish—"

"What is done is done," she interrupted, but with a frown. "There could have been no other result, no trial that would have ended with any other sentence…not for what he had done. I am not sorry, Enguina. You should not be either."

"I am…because y-you _killed_ him."

"Would you not have done the same had you been free?"

"I…would have tried," she replied guiltily. "But I am the one who has been wronged—"

"And I am the one who finished it," Arwen ended simply. "And it would be best to leave it there. Back to Legolas." She paused a moment for Enguina to collect her thoughts. "As I said before, Legolas loves you, therefore, he desires you…and more." She gave a little smile and turned her head back to Enguina to catch her staring at her. "What is it?"

"You," she said, her tone a bit annoyed. "Why is it that every time I wish to discuss something that relates to you, you are always changing the subject? Why is it that I am always letting you control the conversation?"

Arwen shrugged. "Because…and this day is for you, not me. Now… _Legolas…_ " she insisted, and Enguina rolled her eyes. _As if that were an answer, Arwen. 'Because.' I feel as though I am speaking to my mother._

" _Fine_ , Legolas. I will say one more thing about him…and then we really should be getting home. Legolas will be wondering what happened to us, and well, you are the Queen."

Arwen sighed. "Thank you for pointing that out," she said dryly.

"What I cannot understand is why I feel this… _desire_ , as you say, for Legolas," Enguina continued. "Because of what happened, I should…I should not _want_ him to be so near me. But…when he kisses me I do not want him to stop. His touch _is_ like fire; when he touches me I forget the world; I forget, for a few minutes, what happened to me. I did not expect that." She hesitated. "Arwen, do you really think it is possible that I could let Legolas touch me that way and _want_ it? That he could touch me like that and I would not think of Bragolaur doing it? I am so afraid of seeing Bragolaur that I am afraid of our wedding night." She looked away, her cheeks burning with shame. "Legolas tells me that it would not matter if it took us one hundred years to make love to one another, but I…I do not want that to happen. I know, no matter _what_ he says, that _he_ does not want that either."

"Enguina, the only way you are going to see Bragolaur in Legolas is if you impose his image over the elf's face," Arwen said patiently. "You _love_ him, and you desire him. Nothing will change that, not even Bragolaur. Nothing Legolas does is violent."

"Arwen, is desire not wrong? Is it not wrong to feel lustful towards someone?" she asked awkwardly. "I think I am beginning to feel awkward around Legolas because I am ready to want him, I-I _do_ want him. And sleeping beside him these last few weeks has not made it any easier. Why was it wrong when it was Bragolaur who desired me, but it is not wrong when it is _me_ who has desire for Legolas? Why is one wrong and the other natural?"

Arwen sat up slowly, dragging her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on them, looking sideways at Enguina lying there in the grass. "Enguina," she prompted, but Enguina did not look, still embarrassed from saying the words aloud. "Enguina, look at me." The older elf turned her head and frowned, meeting Arwen's eyes, hers full of confusion. "Desire, by itself, is not wrong," she replied. "It is when desire is coupled with inappropriate action that it is wrong. Someone who acts on their desire either out of wedlock or by forcing themselves on someone else, these are inappropriate actions coupled with desire. You, who are to enter into marriage with Legolas, desire him _because_ you love him, just as he does you. Remember, I just explained that. You did not desire him first; it is acting inappropriately on desire that makes it wrong."

"And my desire to…to…to love Legolas physically, that is not inappropriate?" she asked again, trying desperately to reassure herself. "It is not inappropriate because I love him?" Arwen shook her head, smiling.

"No, that is not the reason it is not inappropriate. It is because you are not acting on that desire. You and Legolas, though you are sharing the same bed because of your dreams, are not sharing each other. Not yet. _That_ would be inappropriate."

She blushed. "In my household, sharing the same bed with any woman for any reason would be deemed inappropriate."

"In mine as well," Arwen admitted. "But you have special circumstances."

"Did you and Aragorn—?" Enguina halted when she realized she had no right to ask that question of Arwen, and she did not even want to know the answer. "No, forget I—"

"My situation was entirely different than yours, but no…Aragorn and I never shared a bed, for any reason," she told her honestly. Then she shook her head. "I suppose that is not true. We _did_ share a bed once—and a divan—but they were innocent occasions. Nothing like what you are talking."

"But you said that you did desire him before you were wed, yes? So I am not _so_ strange?"

"Enguina, forget before I was wed," she said with a laugh. "If I desired Aragorn before, it _pales_ in comparison to how much I desire him now," she told her. "Enguina, when I told you before that nothing can prepare you for what making love is really like, I meant it. There is nothing like the man you adore beside you as you are learning him, as he is learning you. I cannot…I wish I could tell you about my anticipation before we were wed. I was _afraid;_ I was just as afraid as you, but for different reasons. I was afraid I would not be good enough for him, and I was so unsure. I was a virgin, just as you, and even though I wanted to give myself to him, I did not know what I was doing. I was afraid I would do something wrong, that I would not be what he wanted, that I would not please him." She shook her head. "Oh Enguina, I was so wrong! And I was wrong because Aragorn was just as afraid and unsure as I was."

"How…did you find out?"

"When I lost myself to tears the moment we crossed the threshold of the sitting room and I could see through the door into what was to be _our_ bed," she answered, smiling sheepishly. "I could barely explain myself, and I could not stop trembling, even though I _wanted_ him…more than anything I had ever known. He had to explain that we would learn together." She laughed, waving her hand. "Oh, everyone knows the technical nature of love-making, Enguina; do not misunderstand me! But when both of you, as you and Legolas, have never been with another person, there is no right or wrong. It is _yours_. And whatever you make of it will be wonderful, and special…and beautiful.

"And _that_ , Enguina, is the reason I desire Aragorn more now than I ever did. To _know_ what we have shared together…" she swallowed, a bit embarrassed by the burning in her eyes, "to have given myself to him, to have learned each other the way we have… There are moments when I can think of nothing but the next time I will be lying beside him, touching his skin, feeling his strength, dragging my nails along the muscles of his back." She watched Enguina blush and cover her face with one hand. "I do not mean to embarrass you; perhaps the image of the two of us together is too much," she said honestly. "Forgive me. I was just trying to explain—"

"No, it is not… _embarrassing_ , exactly," Enguina whispered. "I…just cannot stop myself from thinking about _Legolas_ that way, and that is what embarrasses me."

"I _belong_ to Aragorn, and he belongs to me," she said. "We can share our desire with each other any time we choose. You are going to share this with Legolas, so why would your desire be wrong? As I said to you once before, it is a natural progression to go from love to desire, to want to be one with that person you are ready to share your life with."

"I _am_ ready," Enguina replied, sitting up as Arwen was. "I _want_ to run my fingers through his hair and let him press his lips to my neck." She swallowed, closing her eyes at the image. "I want him to touch me, to feel his fingers on my skin, to touch my hands against his perfect chest and run them over his shoulders…my skin to his skin…to let him lay me down…" She felt warm all over just imagining it, and she opened her eyes to look at Arwen and smiled awkwardly. "If you were afraid of love-making, than I suppose I should not feel so strange about having fear. Aragorn is much scarier than Legolas."

Arwen burst out laughing. "Oh yes, much!" She raised her eyebrows at the blush on Enguina's cheeks from thinking of Legolas in the way she had been.

Enguina sighed. "I suppose we should be returning home."

"Are you sure you are ready to head back to Minas Tirith?" Arwen asked, eyes sparkling.

"What do you mean? Of course I am ready."

"I just thought that perhaps with all of this talk of Legolas and being skin to skin with him, you might need to take another long, cool dip in the Anduin."

Enguina glared at her. "Honestly? You are going to make fun of me now?"

Grinning, Arwen shrugged. "What are friends for, dearest?"


	37. Chapter 37

The sun was far past noon when Legolas and his father finally reached the gardens near the White Tower. Thranduil had seen some of the City, but Legolas had not wanted to show him too much as he assumed he was tired from the very long journey. He knew his father too well, however, to know that he would spend more time in the gardens than he would anywhere else. His father had a passion for flowers and things that blossomed, so when Thranduil was introduced to the gardens, he took in their beauty with great delight.

"The gardens have thrived here," Thranduil said softly, leaning in to smell a particular yellow blossom. "You have done well since they were planted by our people."

"There are caretakers for the garden," Legolas explained, "but there is nothing as the line of Kings remade to keep the flowers blooming, Adar. The white tree blossoms even in winter."

"Yes, I have heard," he replied, staring down the row toward the White Tree, the fountain flowing behind it. "How is your very old friend?"

"Aragorn is very well."

"And our Evenstar?" he asked with a smile. "Putting up with him as best she can?"

Legolas smiled back. "Yes, indeed, as only a woman can. I think, perhaps, they are closer now than they ever were."

"And you, Legolas, what have you been doing? Traveling long hours with the dwarf? Courting elegant females?" He raised his eyebrows and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Gimli and I _had_ been doing a bit of traveling. When we parted in Eryn Lasgalen, he and I traveled to the Glittering Caves, which he _vastly_ enjoyed."

Thranduil laughed. "You not so much, my boy?"

"I did, surprisingly," Legolas replied. "He intends to make his home there soon."

"Soon? Perhaps after you are wed?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, I…think so. It is going to be different without him. We have been constant companions these last seven years, since the War, you know."

"You have finally cured yourself of the curse of the Greenwood," Thranduil said with a sad smile.

"Curse? What curse is that, Adar?" Legolas asked, confused.

"The curse to stay in the place one has made for oneself."

Legolas tilted his head. "Are we speaking of me…or of you?"

"Both, really," he sighed softly. "I _do_ miss you, Legolas, more than I can ever say. But I must put aside these selfish things for I _am_ happy for you. My heart is full of joy for what you have found; your most earnest desire these long years was to find someone to share your heart with and you have. I could not be happier for you." He looked over at his son. "Life will change, _must_ change, but for the good. You shall still see your friends and spend time with them, even when you are wed, yes?" He smiled. "I am sure you have little intention of returning to Eryn Lasgalen once you and your bride are wed."

Legolas looked guilty. "I…do not know what to say."

"Speak your heart. Be honest," replied Thranduil softly. "That is all I have ever asked of you."

Legolas looked into his face. "Ithilien is a beautiful country, and much of it could be made even more so with our kin to grow it and give it life again. I was…thinking that perhaps some of the elves of Eryn Lasgalen would be eager to share it with me if I…were to move there upon our marriage."

Thranduil nodded. "I am certain there are many that would be eager to see the open woods and live among the trees again instead of the halls of our kingdom. When I return home, I will see who would be interested in such an endeavor. I could see Otsul and his family journeying with you."

"I did not intend to divide your kingdom, Adar."

"Legolas, when you are my age," he sighed softly, "you come to see there were more important things than property and treasure that you should…pay more attention to. You are not the man I—"

"I _am_ the man you were," Legolas said softly, "that you used to be."

Thranduil looked wistful for a moment, and then a shadow of sadness crossed over his face. "Yes, it has been a long time since I have seen him." He glanced away and then back to Legolas's eyes with more of a smile. "Does our dwarvish friend enjoy the company of your betrothed?"

"Very much," Legolas replied, and then glanced sideways at his father, thinking that the conversation might have grown too serious if Thranduil had allowed it to continue. "You were not asking that to see if your opinion shall be the same, yes?"

"Of course not. I shall make my own mind, but…I cannot see a reason that I would not like her. If you love her, she shall be as a daughter to me."

Legolas's face flushed as he stared at his father, and he had to look away. "Thank you, Adar. That means so much to me."

"Though you still have not even told me her name."

Legolas blushed even redder and laughed suddenly. "Enguina! Her name is Enguina. Enchanting, astonishing, amusing, kindhearted Enguina."

"Those are nice descriptions of her. Tell me more," Thranduil said immediately. "How did you meet? What does she look like? How long have you known each other?"

"There are too many questions there, Adar," he laughed in reply. "Enguina is of our elf-kindred of Lórien; long, fair hair, emerald eyes, she is…the loveliest woman I have ever laid eyes on. But if that were all that had led me to her, I would be shallow indeed. I saw Enguina had a friendly, loving heart; though stubborn and often judgmental, she is the other half of my person, my soul. She has weakness, but she has so much strength to her in ways one might not expect. We are similar, yet, we are very different. I am far more trusting yet far more protective. She is easy to tease, fun to be with, very witty, and sometimes very silly." He smiled and gave a sheepish laugh. "Enguina runs faster than anyone I have ever known. She can catch _me_ , which is no small feat," he said with a bit of astonishment, "as long as I am not cheating. She enjoys my antics, though sometimes I can hardly comprehend why she bothers. I have bruises from being hit in the arm."

"How did you meet her, Legolas?"

"Enguina is a very old friend of Arwen's," he told his father. "She is the sister of Haldir, Captain of the Golden Wood. You might—"

"Haldir? Yes, I remember him quite well from his many visits as a messenger in our Woods. He was a good man; Celeborn had said in many missives he was an intelligent Captain. He was killed in the War, was he not?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, there is a mallorn planted here in the garden in his honor. Her brother is the very same. Enguina left Lórien on her way to the Undying Lands, but something brought her here to visit Arwen before she made that long journey." He smiled thoughtfully. "I have been thanking Ilúvatar every day since I made the discovery. Arwen introduced us, and—"

"You spent the rest of the time courting her," Thranduil guessed.

"I asked for her hand only two months after I had met her," Legolas whispered sheepishly. "I knew what I wanted…I knew what I saw in her, what we could have together. I understood my own heart. Guin and I have only known one another since she came to Minas Tirith—since December—so we have not yet been together even six months." He looked away from his father's eyes.

"A brief courtship."

"One that was fraught with more impossibilities than you would care for me to recount," he muttered. "But it should not _matter_ , yes? If we are in love."

"It would not matter if you knew her but a day," Thranduil agreed, "if you loved her, and she you. It sounds, my boy, as though Ilúvatar brought her here for a reason; perhaps you were meant to meet." He smiled at his son. "I do not doubt it for a moment, not with the way you speak of her."

"It seems so strange," Legolas whispered, in awe. "You know I have loved before, Adar, but I feel as though I have _never_ loved before her. Almost as though anything before these past months in my life were nearly unreal, not truth. It is as though the only truth Eru has revealed to me is in Guin. My love for her, her love for me…this is real, true. Meant to be."

Thranduil was silent for a moment and then he placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You cannot understand the joy in my heart that overflows to see you so happy, Legolas," he said seriously. "I have worried for you long enough; now, I suppose, you are to become _her_ trouble."

Legolas shook his head. "If you knew her, Adar," he said softly, "you would realize that it would be exactly the opposite."

No sooner had the words come out of his mouth when a hurtling object crashed into his father, knocking him clear off his feet. Even the quick reflexes of Thranduil could not prevent the woman and himself from landing on the ground, even as he reached for her, catching her arm before she could completely hit the grass. Half in his arms, the two of them touched down onto the ground, the Elven King still seeking to protect her from the impact. It was completely unsuccessful, and Legolas burst out laughing as he realized that the woman on the ground with Thranduil was _Enguina_. Arwen came limping out of the hedgerow not seconds later, coming to a halt beside Legolas.

"Oh, Thranduil! We are terribly sorry! We were—"

"Running, obviously," Legolas said, rolling his eyes as the two of them sat up.

"Well, Enguina was running," Arwen said sheepishly, "after I remembered my injury."

"I suppose this _is_ a good a time as any. Adar, may I introduce Enguina, Lady of Lórien, and my betrothed."

Enguina turned immediately to look into the face of the man she had run in to, disbelieving what Legolas had said. _This_ was Thranduil? Yes, this close to him she could clearly see the family resemblance, the same chin, the same setting of the eyes into their faces, the flaxen hair. Thranduil's eyes however, were green, and Enguina wondered briefly if Legolas had his mother's eyes. She was drawn back to the fact that though she was seated upon the ground with him, she could tell he was broad-shouldered and tall, very striking. She also found that she could barely speak, but she began to try to force out words.

"Oh, my Lord," she said, bowing her head immediately, "I am so grievously—"

"Please," he said shaking his head and halting her mid-sentence, "do not apologize." He brushed off his tunic and tugged himself to his feet. Reaching down, he extended a hand to Enguina and he drew her up beside him. It was with an immediate glance-over that Thranduil appraised Enguina, and she barely recognized he was doing it aside from the sweeping gaze. "It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Enguina."

His smooth, calming voice began to put her at ease and his smile surprised her. "You _smile_?" she asked, blushing furiously as he touched the back of her hand with his lips before releasing it.

He gave a sideways glance at his son and then looked into her eyes again. "Who said that I did not smile?"

"I did _not_ say that," insisted Legolas. "What I said was—"

"He made you out to be a bit of a bear actually," Enguina admitted while Thranduil raised an eyebrow, Legolas glared at her, and Arwen laughed at her words.

"Well, he was not wrong, I suppose," Thranduil agreed as his son crossed his arms. The older elf gave a little smile again. "You were saying, Legolas?"

"This is precisely what I was saying," he stated. " _She_ is going to bring all the trouble. I shall have nothing to do with it."

"You were speaking of me?" asked Enguina shyly, her face still flushed from landing on Thranduil. "It was really Arwen's fault, you know. I was only—"

"In fact, it was," Arwen agreed. "I suggested the run until I remembered. I do tend to be the improper one…or, I was."

"I do recall that about you," Thranduil said softly, taking her in. "Ah, Evenstar, it seems marriage is treating you well, though you do look…different."

"May I, Thranduil?" she asked softly, and before he could respond she gave him a hug. "It has been _far_ too long since last we saw one another." As Arwen began to release him, he kept his hand around her back and fingered a few strands of her hair.

"Yes, you are…different," he said softly, and she smiled, dipping her head to acknowledge the remark. "But this is good, yes? I asked Legolas how that… _scoundrel_ …is, but he was a bit avoidant of an answer."

She laughed outright at him as she stepped back fully to include Legolas and Enguina in their conversation. "Oh Thranduil, do not pretend you do not love Aragorn so well! I know very well how you feel about him. He is the same as he ever was; he has become a good king."

Thranduil nodded. "Of course he has; he had it inside him all along. It will be good to see him as well; how changed he will be!"

"For the better," Legolas said, settling his arm around Enguina's waist and tugging her a bit closer to him. "And how was your ride near the Anduin?"

"It was _wonderful_ ," Enguina emphasized, meeting his eyes. "Arwen and I enjoyed ourselves, as did Asfaloth and Lómë."

"I wish I could have been there. It would have been very enjoyable indeed."

"She meant we enjoyed ourselves without you _bothering_ us, of course," Arwen murmured slyly.

Legolas clasped a hand over his heart. "I am _wounded_." He gave Enguina a bit of a look. "I should bet you even went _swimming_ without me."

"Ugh," Enguina groaned, " _honestly_ , Legolas!" Rolling her eyes, she looked to Thranduil. "When did you arrive, my Lord? Have you been in Minas Tirith long?"

"Thranduil," the King reminded her, "and only a few hours ago. Legolas was showing me a bit of the City. It has been…" he shook his head, "I cannot even remember the last time I was within these walls. It is an impressive place. I am glad I was timely enough for the wedding."

Enguina smiled at him. "Legolas and I are very glad that you could make it. We were beginning to worry that you would not arrive."

"I would never have missed it. I am much looking forward to getting to know you, Enguina." His words made her stomach flutter, but his smile encouraged her. "I hope Legolas has not told you too much about me."

"Oh, not much at all," she agreed.

"I wish we had more time to walk with you," Arwen said softly. "We were coming to greet Legolas to let him know we had returned, but Enguina has a dress fitting very shortly and we must be headed to the fifth level for that. Were you both just coming from that way?"

"Yes. Perhaps we should wait to speak more until dinner?" Legolas suggested. "I am sure you would like to wash before supper, Adar. This might be a good opportunity for heading to the guesthouse."

"And then we can meet at the House for dinner," Arwen said, reaching out to touch Thranduil's arm. "It would be our honor if you would join us, Thranduil."

"Is Éowyn cooking tonight?" Enguina asked. "I thought perhaps she was, but I was unsure if she was feeling better."

Legolas nodded. "Faramir had hoped they would join us. We can meet you there in a little while?" he asked softly and Enguina nodded, stepping closer to Arwen so they could depart.

"Thank you for the invitation, Evenstar," added Thranduil. "It would be a pleasure to clean off the dirt from the road before dinner." He glanced over at Enguina and Legolas as his son smiled down to her. "I am glad we ran into each other."

Enguina blushed furiously. "I am _so_ sorry!"

He smiled. "Do not be embarrassed. We will see one another again in a short while."

"You are much too forgiving," she murmured, trying to force her skin to pale.

Thranduil shook his head. "Most people do not call me forgiving."

She eyed him for a moment, unable to tell if he was teasing her and she was supposed to laugh or if she was supposed to think that it was a warning or…well, she did not know what she was supposed to do. "They must be wrong then," she said to him. "We will see you for dinner at the King's House."

"Indeed. Enjoy your dress fitting."

Just as Enguina turned to leave with Arwen, Legolas caught her elbow and tugged her back, forgetting that everyone else in the world existed. "Where do you think you are going?" he whispered low, and her skin flushed simply at his tone. Arwen slowed her pace, but continued walking, refusing to turn about and interrupt the two of them. Thranduil watched the interaction with interest.

" _Legolas_ —" she began, but he ignored her.

"You did not even greet me," he continued, and she tilted her head.

"I was speaking with your father," she chided him in a whisper. "Are you feeling…slighted?" He lowered his chin so their lips were very close. "Because _I_ was not the one having a conversation about the one he loves when she showed up."

"It is not my fault if my father asked a very pertinent question about you, _moina_."

"Mmm," she said, sounding unsure if he was telling the truth. "I need to be going."

He looked wounded again, and she tried very hard, though unsuccessfully, not to smile at him. "I will make a bargain with you."

" _No,_ " she said immediately. "I _know_ you. You will simply go back on it."

"I never go back on my promises," he stated. "If you kiss me goodbye, I promise I will tell no embarrassing stories of you to my father while we are apart."

She looked at him a moment, her eyes narrowing. "And what of when we are together?"

His eyes twinkled. "If I have to include that in the bargain, then you will have to do more."

" _Enguina!_ " Arwen called from down the row. "You are going to be _late!_ "

She looked away from him to Arwen, looked indecisive for a moment, and then turned back to him. " _Fine_. I agree." She leaned up onto the ends of her toes and then lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Legolas's neck and kissing him. He took full advantage of the kiss, which Enguina had meant to only last a second, tugging her close and slipping his arms around her back to hold her to him. She forgot about Thranduil, and kissed him as he wished, and then he finally released her. Flushed with pleasure, she nibbled her lower lip as he grinned at her.

"I love you, Guin."

"I love you, too," she whispered, and then she scampered off into the rows of flowers to join her rather impatient friend. Legolas found it impossible to pull his eyes away and look back at his father until she was gone from sight.

"I am so in love with her," he murmured, "sometimes I cannot even think straight, focus."

"I can see that," Thranduil replied with a little smile.

"What do you think of her, Adar?" he asked, suddenly worried for his father's approval. In spite of the elf's reassurances, Legolas still felt that Thranduil could change his opinion _and_ his thoughts on accepting her as though she were his daughter.

"Legolas!" Thranduil laughed. "I only just met the poor thing, and we barely spoke."

He turned to his father and frowned. "She wants your approval more than anything in the world," he said softly, and Thranduil sighed and looked away from his eyes. "She wants you to like her." Thranduil remained silent and Legolas looked anxious. "Damn it, _I_ want you to like her!"

"Boy, people need a chance to _meet_ , to get to know one another," he sighed. "I have no doubt at all that after dinner I will declare her the most likeable, beautiful, charming, and agreeable lady in all of Middle-Earth, and therefore, perfect for you in every possible way."

Legolas caught his father's shoulder and began steering him towards the guesthouses. "Father, if you say agreeable, we are _not_ speaking of the same woman!"

* * *

Dinner was a wonderful affair. Even though it had in fact been cooked in a hurry as Éowyn and her family had once again been unable to attend, the food was well-done and everyone enjoyed it. At the moment, Aragorn still had not arrived, though Arwen did not seem too surprised. The man had to pay his dues from joining her in bed a few extra hours the day before, so she did not complain as much as the others. She knew that whenever he could, he would be on his way. Even Gimli had not arrived yet, and Legolas had voiced his annoyance that the dwarf had not yet made an appearance.

"Is it possible," asked Thranduil with a bit of disbelief, "that one could travel an entire day in Minas Tirith without seeing its king? Where in all of Middle-Earth _is_ that boy? Is he _always_ this late?"

Arwen smiled at him but Enguina laughed. "He sounds like me when I first arrived!"

"I have learned, Thranduil," Arwen told him softly, "that one should rejoice when Aragorn is here and try to handle it to the best of their ability when he is not. Why do you not tell us of the Greenwood?" Arwen suggested instead of trying to answer his question. "I am sure Enguina would like to hear you tell of your Realm. How have things been since the War?"

"In the Greenwood? Well, what can I say?" he said, thinking aloud. "Things have been changing for the better, most especially since Sauron was overthrown, of course. The spiders have decreased, along with the raids of goblins from the mountains, though they can still be found. But our people are strong…resilient, as those in Gondor and Rohan have been these many years, chasing away the nastiness that invades their borders." He lifted his chin a bit when he spoke and Enguina noticed that he took great pride in his people. "Our borders are well-protected, and we are used to war. To finally live in peace is strange to us. Mirkwood's history is such that even in the time when Middle-Earth was supposed to be at peace, we were still fighting."

"Adar, do you need to mention the old days?" Legolas asked softly. Enguina glanced at him, seeing that he was almost embarrassed at his father's pride, by his father's words.

"For Enguina's benefit," Thranduil replied tersely, "I was attempting to include a bit of the history of the Realm you grew up in. That is, if she does not object to hearing—"

"I did hear about a few of the incidents Mirkwood faced that the other woodland realms did not," Enguina interrupted gently, leaning forward on the table to display her interest. "Though we have all had some trouble with orcs in our own ways…even Rivendell." She reached beneath the table to Legolas who sat beside her and rested a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. He gave a twitch at the movement, but no other sign. She knew, however, he understood her perfectly. _Go easy on your father._

Arwen, who had been walking about the kitchen handing our dessert plates now moved on to dishing the dessert—an apple cobbler that looked quite delicious. She nodded across the table to Thranduil. "That is true," she agreed, "I remember my father and brothers out near the Trollshaws, protecting the borders of Imladris. At times, when my father was not near, I would join my brothers in the woods, hunting orcs and trolls."

Thranduil gave her a little smile as a piece of the cobbler was placed before him. "I am certain Elrond would not have been pleased if he knew."

"No indeed, and I will admit that my brothers were only more... _open_ to the idea after my mother was taken," she said. "And bear in mind, Thranduil, that _Hadhafang_ was my _father's_ sword."

Thranduil nodded. "That is true, and a better bearer such a sword could not have. But, you, Evenstar, should remember that he only gave it to you after he realized he was not going to be able to stop you. Better to arm the ones you love than to live in fear of them in pain."

Enguina smiled. "Words to live by."

"Remember them when you have children," he told her pointedly, and though she laughed and blushed, he continued. "I am serious, my dear. Imagine, if you will, the moment that a father hands his daughter a weapon and allows her to learn to defend herself." He frowned. "Our goal, as a parent, as a being who cares for our realm, our people, is to keep them safe—it is our duty. To hand you a weapon is to say that we are not able to do that as well as we would wish. That is a difficult task."

Enguina stared at him a moment, his green eyes locked on hers. "Now I see where Legolas gets that same intensity, that same overprotective nature from."

Thranduil remained serious for a moment. "When you have children, Enguina, you shall see how difficult it is to admit that you cannot protect them from everything…and how hard it is to let go." Then he smiled suddenly, eyeing Legolas. "So, my son has a _bit_ of my nature?"

"I do not know you quite well enough yet," Enguina admitted, "but I would say that to protect others is in his very bones. But, to return to the subject of Mirkwood, Legolas told me you live underground. That is so different, so intriguing! In Lórien, all of our homes were in trees and I have never known anything so different. I do not know if I could ever live underground in tunnels such as in your kingdom, though Legolas has told me they are nothing as I am picturing. It is hard to imagine."

"I understand," Thranduil replied as Arwen finally took her seat and everyone began eating their cobbler. "But what Legolas has told you is the truth. The 'tunnels' as you say, are not tunnels at all, but halls, great wide halls. The halls were built when we were on excellent terms with the dwarves and they were beautiful and carven. The throne room alone is nearly three times as tall and wide as the throne room in Ecthelion." He gave a humorless smile. "You know how we elves are about beauty. But Eryn Lasgalen would not be the sort of place for an elf to feel trapped, my dear. We need light, air, open space and nature to live and breathe; no elf does well in a closed, dark space. We do not live entirely underground...there are homes among the trees. Yet all of our people take shelter within the tunnels during times of…trouble. There have not been many that close to our home."

"I would love to see it someday," she replied, her eyes wide. "I am certain that it is something to see, a kingdom of beauty that is different from both Rivendell and Lórien."

"Yes, the Greenwood is beautiful in its own right, though it has its dangers just as every other Realm."

Legolas smiled, resting a hand on the one on his knee. "You almost _did_ see it, Enguina. Much sooner than you expected that you would."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up and he studied the two of them from across the table, wrapping his hands around his mug of tea. "Oh? And when was the lady near my woods? And why did you not come? I would have made you very welcome."

"It is…a bit of a long story," Enguina said softly, unsure that Legolas would want to tell such a story to his own father and why in the world he would make it look as though _she_ would want to tell it.

"Actually, it all has to do with me…and you, Adar," Legolas admitted. "A group of elves was hell-bent on taking over your kingdom. Prince Faramir of Ithilien and his wife and Enguina and I had journeyed to Ithilien to find the perfect place to settle down, begin our lives, and start our family. Within that journey, those elves attacked Faramir and me, seriously wounding him and kidnapping myself. Their intention was to hold me captive and ransom me against the Greenwood."

Thranduil stared at him. " _What?_ "

"Yes, I told them it was utter madness," he continued. "I explained, in very detailed and animated language how the life of one man, even that one being your son, would not be saved for the lives of many. That is simply not the way of things. The Realm _must_ come first."

"Why did you not tell me?" Thranduil asked, and not calmly. "When did this happen? What in the name of _heaven_ —"

"This happened not even a month ago, Thranduil," Arwen interrupted softly.

"You are my _son_ ," Thranduil argued. "You should have told me."

"I _am_ telling you," Legolas insisted. "I was taken, and then my friends set forth to rescue me. Things were handled, though I will admit I was grievously wounded; thankfully, Aragorn once again made himself my savior in that regard."

"It was recent enough that it would have made no sense to journey the rest of the way to the borders of Eryn Lasgalen," Enguina added. "You were already journeying, and we were to be married in a month, and—"

"Ilúvatar in Heaven," Thranduil said his voice full of worry, "and you are well now? All of you?"

Enguina did not respond, unable to answer that statement truthfully, so Legolas answered instead. "Of course, Adar," he said soothingly, "everyone is fine, though we did all acquire some injuries along the way. Everything is fine now."

Thranduil shook his head slowly, still trying to absorb what they were telling him. "And these men who attacked you? What has become of them?"

"They are all dead," he replied simply.

"Very dead," added Arwen and Thranduil looked over at her, though she did not raise her eyes from her empty dessert plate. "Gimli burned every corpse. The Greenwood is safe from them."

"And my son," Thranduil added. He eyed Legolas and frowned. "The life of Eryn Lasgalen is most precious to me, but you are my only son. I would have found a way to rescue you and keep safe the Greenwood."

Legolas sighed. "You would never have given in for me, and you should not. A man with such responsibilities must be bigger than his family; all must serve the One." Thranduil looked at him, but said nothing. Enguina stared at Legolas, listening to his words and saddened by them. The tension in the air was thickening, as though something needed to be said that continued to go un-said. No one spoke.

Just then, the front door opened and inside walked Aragorn, calmly shaking water from his hair. Closing the door, he gave the table a little smile as he jerked his head in the direction of the outside. "It is raining now, of course, as I walked here, but it should soon clear; the moon is nearly out."

Arwen and Enguina smiled, Legolas stood up in greeting, and Thranduil half-turned in his chair to see the man. "Ah, Elessar! A little more grey I see, but much less grim; marriage has suited you _quite_ well."

Aragorn grinned at him, clasping the elf's arm. "You have _no_ idea," he chuckled, and he glanced up just in time to catch the blush on Arwen's cheeks. "It is so good to see you, Thranduil. I trust your journey was safe; no surprises? I saw Fânrim in the guard quarters so I knew you were here."

"You knew, yet you sent no one to greet me?" he asked, his eyebrows raising. "A King should greet another King when he enters his kingdom." His tone was chastising, but Aragorn only looked at him.

"Thranduil," Aragorn tried to say with a serious face, "you know I have always tried to live by your example."

The elf raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you making fun—"

"Not at all! I was merely trying to draw a comparison. At least I did not have you tossed into a prison for attempting to visit your son."

The elf's eyes narrowed. "You are _not_ still holding that—"

"There is a story _there_!" laughed Enguina suddenly, jumping at the chance to lighten the mood. "Someone tell it, please."

"Gladly," offered Legolas. "The man was traveling through the woods of Mirkwood and the guards did not recognize him at all. Of course not; why would they? He was of no importance—"

"Oh, none at all," Enguina scoffed. "Ridiculous!"

"You must remember, Enguina," Arwen interrupted in that soft voice of hers, "that Aragorn was nowhere near as well-known as he is now. He would have appeared a common traveler to them."

"Less than common, actually," Aragorn insisted, availing himself of a chicken leg and some bread near the hearth before taking a seat beside Thranduil and smiling at Enguina. "And it was right for them to take me captive; I did not belong wandering in their woods."

"Unfortunately for Aragorn," Legolas continued, "I was out in the woods at the time that he made his appearance. Needless to say, no one believed a word of his story or that he had come to see me. When I arrived, I discovered a prisoner had been taken, and I headed to the jail to see what was going on, finding Aragorn." He rolled his eyes. "He was out in moments, of course, but I have never let my father live that one down. Neither will Aragorn."

"You deserve it," Aragorn explained to Thranduil, "for the many faults you have always pointed out to me."

"I suppose I do," he sighed in reply. "Legolas was just relating the situation of the past month or so when he had been taken. I am sincerely glad you are all safe. You have done wonders with Minas Tirith, Elessar, and the people are more cheerful than ever I have seen them. I did see some construction on the wall as I was traveling into the City today; it looked like construction was going on with that fourth level. Did something happen?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, "in fact we had an explosion there not six months ago. It leveled a section of the wall and killed several Gondorians and left many without homes. We are still rebuilding."

"An explosion?" questioned Thranduil. "What sort of madness _has_ been going on?"

"More than anyone cares to admit, Adar," Legolas replied.

"Speaking of that, and now that you are here, Aragorn," Enguina began, "I was going to ask you for a favor."

"Please do not ask him for favors," Legolas jumped in, just as Aragorn opened his mouth. He gave Legolas a look, and then looked back at her.

"What is it, Enguina?"

"I have been thinking..." she continued a bit slowly, and then decided to plow on through the rest of it, "I was thinking that since there has been so much chaos around here recently, I would like to begin learning the sword so that I might defend myself more readily. I can use a bow quite well, and I was hoping that…well, I was hoping that you might be willing, if you could find some time, to teach me." She chewed her lower lip and watched Aragorn's face. "It would be a very good thing to know how to do."

"Surprisingly, I believe I agree with that," Legolas said with a bit of disbelief. "It would be good to practice with the sword as the knives have been lost."

"Lost?" Thranduil asked softly, and Legolas nodded. "What happened to them?"

"One was lost in the initial assault, the other Enguina was kind enough to keep for me." He smiled ruefully. "I will admit that one is not much help without the other…they are meant to be used as a unit."

"That is true," Thranduil said softly.

"I…am sorry, Adar," Legolas replied in the same voice, and Enguina glanced back and forth between them. It was then she realized that the knives must have been a gift of some sort from the King to his son; they may have even been in his family for generations, or they might have been forged for Legolas specifically. Enguina could never have said, but she felt as though something had been lost, and she felt as though she was partially responsible.

"Thranduil," she whispered, "Gimli and I searched everywhere for the other blade, but we could not find it, even after every body had been burned or prepared for burial. I am so sorry for their loss—"

Thranduil shook his head. "It is not anyone's fault; neither of you should apologize. Though, what shall you wield now without them? Only your bow?" He studied his son and Legolas shook his head slowly.

"A few months ago, Enguina's brother Haldir was memorialized here in Minas Tirith. Aragorn had been keeping the elf's sword and returned it to Enguina. She, in turn, knowing she would never wield it, gave it to me." He glanced at Aragorn. "If you would consent to working with me as well, I would like to have a reason to wield it." After the man nodded, Legolas looked back to his father. "And, if it is good enough for you, I would like to give the lone knife to Enguina; it would suit her better than a sword."

"It would be fitting," Thranduil replied, nodding. "A part of you shall protect her."

Enguina blushed. "That is not necessary, really—"

"It is actually, and it should be done."

"I think I can make myself free, if not tomorrow, than the following day. If I… _force_ the issue. Perhaps lunch in the gardens? Among the hedgerow might be a quiet place to duel a bit," Aragorn suggested.

"Mind your shoulder," Arwen said softly and he smiled to himself at her words.

"Does every one of you have an injury?" complained Thranduil, sitting back in his chair and losing his perfect posture for a moment. The movement appeared so relaxed that it surprised Enguina; almost as though nowhere was out of place for the Elven King. "Even the Evenstar was limping today, I noticed. I thought you had all become older, you understand? More intelligent… _wiser_."

"Not this lot," Legolas said with a laugh. "Aragorn was actually rescuing Enguina from drowning when he received that wound. We are very grateful for his sacrifice."

Thranduil sighed. "I am much ashamed to admit it, but I think I have grown tired from my very long journey." He appeared depressed to admit it. "As much as I desire to remain—"

"Thranduil," chided Arwen, "we are not going anywhere. We have dinner here every evening."

"Yes," laughed Aragorn. "Though we would much like you to stay, go and rest! Come for breakfast tomorrow—Arwen will be lonely."

"That early, my Lord?"

"That early," Aragorn replied as Arwen nodded.

Enguina shook her head. "I suppose it is only right, considering how long we had been away."

"Reparation…for so much time away," he agreed with a smile.

"Adar," Legolas said, rising and keeping Enguina's hand within his own, "Enguina and I will walk you. It has been a long day, yes?" Enguina nodded. It was strange to her how he could know that when she had only just been feeling it herself. "We will all see you in the morning."

"Dinner was delicious, Evenstar," Thranduil said softly. "It was my pleasure to share it with you. I am…exceedingly glad to see you all again and to be fellowshipping with you."

"You are so kind, Thranduil," Arwen said. "May your first night in Minas Tirith be a peaceful one." He reached across the table, took her hand and kissed it, and then clasped Aragorn's arm.

"Until the morning, then," he said and turned to follow his son outside.


	38. Chapter 38

Thranduil stood silently inside the guesthouse beside the window, watching his son and his betrothed walk along the lantern-lit stones. He had a great many things on his mind; sometimes he found that the only way to collect all of them and see them was to stand utterly still and focus on each one at a time. From experience, Thranduil knew quite well that he would never be able to sleep with so much weighing on him. Best to address each one. The Elven King was an excellent _reader_ , of thoughts, of people, of animals, of things, and he could see many details that others would miss.

First and foremost, his son seemed deliriously happy. He could picture in his mind the kiss Legolas had stolen from Enguina within the walls of the garden today shortly after Enguina's arrival there. He was calm, thoughtful, teasing…everything Thranduil would have expected his son to be with the woman he intended to marry, the woman he clearly loved. There was no doubt at all that Legolas loved her; it was clear in the way they moved near each other, in the way he looked at her, and furthermore, in the way he spoke of her and his eyes dazzled when he thought about her. His son was in love.

And Enguina, she was a sight to behold. The Elven woman loved his son, and she was kind, caring, and good. She was easily embarrassed, and with the faint blush that appeared on her cheeks, he could see why Legolas enjoyed teasing her. He looked forward to getting to know her more over the next few weeks, but he liked her enough already to know that she was wonderful for Legolas, she would be a perfect mother for his children, and she _was_ as beautiful as the sunrise. Watching her steal the kiss that Legolas had invited earlier had been sweet, and there was something that welled up inside him thinking about it.

Thranduil was a reflective elf; he knew more about himself and his feelings than most, and he spent an awful lot of time in reflection. He knew _very well_ the feeling he had been experiencing earlier, he was choosing not to admit it at the moment. So pleased for his son and his new wife, he had no right to be thinking about his own loneliness. He had been lonely for a very long time…and he had no idea why he was even still here. In fact, by all accounts it made no sense at all. Every time he was confronted by the memories, he shoved them away; like a festering sore, they continued to haunt him. There was no healing to be found; he ran from the pain and held it at bay with a seriousness, a callousness that protected his heart. He was not the man he used to be…and he hated himself for it.

Resting his brow upon the window glass with a heavy heart, he thought that tonight was not a good night for battling his demons. He was tired from many days of journeying, and though he thought that Legolas was glad he was here, there was some awkwardness between them. There always would be from that time when he had— Thranduil shook his head. _No._ He was not going to go there; he would not think of how he had hurt Legolas during that time. They had settled that years ago…and yet there were still unpleasant feelings there…years of hurt that could not be undone.

He lifted his head and his attention was caught by the two of them drawing to a halt upon the stones before another guesthouse. Moments ago, Legolas and Enguina had been walking, their fingers interlaced as Legolas swung their hands gently between them. Thranduil watched as his son drew her hands to his chest and she gave him a sweet smile. Then, she wrapped his hand in hers and tugged him up the steps and through the front door of the house.

When Thranduil finally blinked, he had no idea how long he had stood at the window; he had no idea how long he had been watching that front door, watching for his son to step back out the door…but he did not. Nor did Enguina. He felt uncomfortable, as though he had witnessed something he should not have. He felt as though he was prying, interfering where he did not belong, where he had not been invited. Legolas was his son…and it was just _days_ before they would be wed…for propriety's sake…

 _No._ He stepped back from the window. He should not interfere. Legolas was his own man, had been for hundreds of years. He could make his own choices…but a nagging voice kept eating him as he hovered around the tunic he had brought for sleep. Should those choices not be _good_ choices? _Right_ choices? Had he not taught his son of all appropriate behavior? Again, he forced away that voice as he finished preparing for bed. Who was _he_ ; his son was old enough to choose for himself. He had no right to get involved. No right at all.

But the nagging voice kept on Thranduil _long_ into the night.

* * *

"What's taking you so long, laddie?" Gimli grumbled.

The dwarf was seated in a chair not far from the front door of the tailor's shop on the third level. To Gimli, it seemed an awful long way to travel simply to fit a tunic for a wedding, even if it _was_ a wedding. He was growing exceedingly grumpy as the hour drew on, especially when the young woman tried to get _him_ to try on some finery. Gimli had to draw the line somewhere; he had plenty of nice things to wear, and he was not about to purchase something else.

"Well," replied Legolas from behind the hanging fabric not five meters from where the dwarf sat, "it has to look nice, does it not? You would not want Enguina to be beautiful and me to be—"

"You're beautiful enough!" Gimli chuckled. "Why don't you just wear your famous fellowship garb and be done with it!"

"I am _not_ getting married in my traveling tunic and leggings," Legolas replied. "Honestly, Gimli, would you?"

"I'd have to find a lass first," he replied with a _humpf_ , "and I'm pretty sure I don't have time for that right now. Besides, I wouldn't have time for my own wedding with you two around." Gimli paused a moment and then looked back to the curtain. "So, I've yet to see the Elven King. Where was he off to today, and why'd I miss him at breakfast? Who'd miss Arwen's sausages?"

Legolas smiled to himself as he eyed the tunic he was fitting. "Perhaps he did not know about Arwen's sausages. At any rate, after you left the King's House, Arwen offered to visit with him while we were busy here. She is very helpful."

Gimli grinned slyly. "Were you just trying to weasel your way out of spending time with your father, Legolas?"

"I most certainly was not."

"And where is Enguina? How did you manage to get rid of her?"

"Flowers. She and Éowyn are taking Annî to the church this morning."

"Éowyn is feeling better? Finally?" Gimli asked, surprised. "I thought she was supposed to be resting. Wasn't Faramir all sorts of worried about her this morning?"

"You are right, Gimli. But I think she is beginning to feel restless, and Enguina really did need help this morning." He shook his head. "She has not been sleeping well."

"It would be nice if ye'd come home once in a while," Gimli said gruffly. "Or are you going to spend every night there until the wedding?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Legolas poked his head out between the fabrics of the curtains. "Gimli, was that a serious question?"

"I suppose it wasn't, miserable elf!" Gimli shook his head. "Are you telling me that she wouldn't feel better if you weren't there? I mean, after everything that's happened—"

"That is why I remain," Legolas replied, and he tugged aside the curtains. "Well? What are your thoughts, my friend?"

Gimli stared at him. The tunic was silvery blue, a beautiful color that brought out the elf's eyes and shimmered when he moved. The dwarf had never seen anything like its color, and he sat transfixed by it for a moment. The elf turned, then turned back and frowned at him as he continued to sit there.

"Gimli…" he prompted. When the dwarf still did not respond, Legolas frowned deeply. "You do not like it. Is it the color? Does it not look right? I want Guin to like I, but if you do not than perhaps—"

"On the contrary," he mumbled, "I think your biggest worry at the wedding is going to be that you might be prettier than the bride!"

* * *

"Annî, give that here, please!"

From afar, Thranduil watched Enguina and Éowyn hang the flowers, Annî running around at their feet as she nearly floated from one end of the string to another, scooping up dropped flowers or misplaced stems, or anything else that she could snatch for the 'Wilderness Stew.' Arwen smiled as she heard Éowyn complain about Faramir and how she wished that he had not taught their daughter to make such silliness. Enguina laughed at her and Éowyn shook her head, explaining that things were going missing around the house and ending up in some sort of nasty stew Annî had been randomly making outside. Thranduil smiled.

Arwen did, too, as she took the flower Thranduil offered her, slipped the needle through it and began stringing it along. They were not real flowers; they could not be this early. The final stage of preparation would be the day before, and it would not include Enguina, Arwen, or Éowyn as they would have other things to prepare. These had been made of some sort of silk by several ladies under Arwen's instruction during the past month. They had been a pleasant surprise for Enguina who thought they were simply beautiful and had shed tears over them, much to Éowyn's delight.

"It was kind of you to offer to help today, Thranduil," Arwen said to him, quietly enough to keep the conversation between them.

"For a long time now, I have had a wonderful passion for flowers," he replied. "I was more than happy to assist you. It appears that you need all of the help you can get, it being only the three of you. Where are Legolas and Gimli today?"

She smiled. "Hiding as far away from flowers as they possibly can. _And_ I think Legolas has been trying to plot against Enguina before the wedding so he wanted a few moments alone to think." She smiled. "They are a bit inseparable, if you have not noticed."

"I noticed," he murmured, thinking of the past evening.

"I also think he was to have a final fitting himself today, so he would not wish Enguina to see him. So she is here, and he is there."

He sighed. "He should have invited me; I would like to have been there for that." Arwen smiled as she watched Thranduil become distracted by Annî again near the front of the church. "He is my only child…and he is finally getting married. You only…do these things once, you know."

Arwen watched him, listened to the sound of his voice and heard the sound of utter loneliness. She knew why; she knew the story of Glosvana and what had happened to her, how her death had nearly torn their family apart, and what her death had done to Thranduil. She knew that there must be times that he wished she was with him still…or that he was with her, dead, gone…at peace instead of aching with longing for her. It was how she would feel when she would lose Aragorn; but unlike Thranduil, no amount of help or prayers or peace would comfort her. Death would find her quickly.

"Yes," she agreed. "He has found his soul mate; I am very glad for both of them."

"You have known Enguina long Legolas said."

"Yes, she and I have been close almost as long as I have known Legolas himself and you. Strange that I never had the thought to introduce them before."

"There was never much opportunity before." Thranduil handed her another flower. "Our kin does not make the time to get together, and now we never will as there are so few of us left. But Enguina makes a good first and second impression," he added with a smile. "I like her."

Arwen grinned. "She would be happy to hear you approve. Legolas has been telling her that you are difficult to impress."

"She does not need to impress me. I do not… _generally_ question Legolas's judgment. I would never say whether he was making the right decision unless he were to ask me. They have my blessing; they are very much in love." He thought about last night and watching the two of them enter her home together—was it really that much of a…yes, it was. He would have no choice but to address it with his son later. But that was not a conversation he needed to have with Arwen.

"Enguina has been dying to meet you; she is very glad you are here. We all are, Thranduil."

Thranduil knew she meant it. "Thank you. It…is good for me to pull my head from my own concerns and spend time worrying about others. It is good to _leave_ Eryn Lasgalen."

He was lonely; she knew that. She could see it in his face and hear it within his voice. She was about to reach out and cover his hand with her own to comfort him, but then she noticed his eyes were focused on Annî again, watching her mime drinking tea with her doll.

"How long has it been since you saw a child?" she asked him and Thranduil shook his head.

"Longer than I care to remember, Evenstar."

"Annî is a very sweet little girl; I enjoy spending time with her."

"She calls you _Tiriel_. Such a title is not given lightly."

Arwen smiled and watched her, too. "She does not know what it means yet, but perhaps she will. She loves without thought, tries to share everything…she is a little darling."

Thranduil smiled. "And Éowyn has another on the way."

"Éowyn thinks it is another girl," she said softly, "but the midwives in the Houses tell her they think it will be a boy because she is carrying low and has struggled with her pregnancy. I do not think any of that matters to Faramir; he only wants them both healthy."

Thranduil looked sideways at her, trying to hide that he was looking. A good reader, he could clearly tell that Arwen was staring at the child quite wistfully. Of course, she and Aragorn had no children yet; he should have noticed that for what it was, but he had not. "What father would not?" he agreed. "Lord Faramir is right to yearn for that…it is all that matters, and he is a very lucky man to have a child and one on the way."

There was silence between them for a moment and though he reached to hand Arwen another flower, she was studying her nails quite diligently. He tried to put the flower anywhere in her line of vision, but he could not. Instead, he said her name gently to get her attention. He assumed she would startle, but she did not; instead she continued to study her hands.

"Thranduil, may I ask you something?" she said softly, and he stopped what he was doing at the seriousness within her voice.

"Yes."

She looked up and there was sadness in her eyes that he could understand; he may not have known _why_ she was sad, but he could understand deep sadness. "It may be too personal."

"Ask, Evenstar."

"Legolas was your only child…"

"That is not a question, but yes, that is true," he replied. "Legolas was a wonderful child, but childbirth was very difficult and…we agreed that we would only have one."

She nodded slowly. "Did…" Her fingers pressed around the edges of the flower. "Did it take…were you married for some time before…?" She could not figure out how to ask him what she wanted to ask him.

"Yes," he said softly. "We were married for some time." He did _not_ wish to address how many years they had pleaded and prayed and tried to have a child. No matter how long of a time Aragorn and Arwen had, it would not be enough if it took as long as it had for Legolas. "Do not worry, my dear," he told her gently. "You will have a child."

He watched as she bit down on her lip— _hard_. She stood almost immediately thereafter. "I need to take a walk," she whispered. "Thranduil, will you walk with me a moment?"

"Of course," he said abruptly. She headed for the door and he turned as he stood. "Enguina," he called softly, and both Enguina and Éowyn turned their heads.

"What is it, Thranduil?" Her eye caught a glimpse of Arwen's face as she was walking out the side door of the church and Enguina looked back at him, now worried as she got to her feet. "Is something wrong? Is she all right?"

"Fine," he replied. "I just wanted to let you know we were going outside for a moment of fresh air." Thranduil gave her a reassuring smile and even though she did not believe him for a moment, she smiled back.

"Do not be gone long. Éowyn and I still need your help." Thranduil glanced over at the other woman and she grinned at him, too.

"Yes, my Lord, we do need your assistance!" she laughed as Annî ran in circles around her.

He smiled back. "Thranduil, and yes, I can see that you have your hands full. We will not be a moment." He turned and headed toward the side door, too, knowing full well that Enguina's eyes were on him the entire time.

When he arrived, Arwen was leaning heavily against the stone wall, staring off the fifth level, watching gulls flying towards Rammas Echor. Her hands were curled over the stones of the wall, and Thranduil came to her side and rested his hand over one of hers.

"What is the matter, my dear?" he asked softly, and when she did not reply immediately, he assumed what she was upset about. "You and Aragorn have not been wed for very long; I am sure it is simply taking more time for you to have a child. I know you understand that it is difficult for our race to bear children, and I know you must feel as though you do not have much time. I understand. Is that what has upset you?"

"Yes," she whispered, "and no." Lowering her head, she could not look him in the eye. "Thranduil, I…I _was_ with child…not five months ago." He stared at her in shock. "We had a son and I…I…" She could never say the word 'miscarried;' she had never been able to say it, and she did not know if she ever would. "He is _gone_ ; I was poisoned, and I lost him, Thranduil."

There was so much pain in her voice that he yearned to take her in his arms, yet she was clearly trying to hold herself together. Doing anything more than touching her hand would probably cause her more harm than good. "It is not your fault," he said gently. "You were poisoned; there was nothing you could have done. _You_ did not lose the child."

"Sometimes I…I cannot do anything but blame myself," she whispered, and he saw a tear spill down her face. "I have…I have been told by both Healers and some citizens, in no uncertain terms, that it is impossible to become pregnant again. Thranduil, I feel so _lost_. I am so sorry to…my father is no longer here and I have no one to speak to of our race." His hand tightened on hers and she turned to look at him, her eyes full of agony and tears. "Am I barren?" she asked in a horrified whisper. "Will I never be able to bear Aragorn a son?"

He reached out and took her shoulder. "Arwen, sometimes it takes many years for one in our race to have a child, as you well know, but you are not barren," he told her gently. "A miscarriage, though painful, does not mean you will never have a child again. There have been several cases of this in the Greenwood, and though all of them were natural causes of miscarriage and not because they were poisoned, all except one eventually had children."

She looked at him and her expression did not appear relieved. "Except one," she repeated, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. _She_ would be that _one_.

He released her hand and cupped his hands around her face. "Do not do that. Everything is going to be fine. Though you are an elf, and childbearing is very difficult, you must be patient. I understand your worries, your fears…Aragorn is mortal, and neither of you will live forever. You must wait for Ilúvatar's time; if he gave you a child, he will give you one again."

"I am…I am so afraid," she said. "I try to have Aragorn's faith, but it is difficult when sometimes I cannot even breathe from the pain of it. Sometimes I live moment by moment, trying to trust in Ilúvatar's time. It is so _hard_. And the _time_ …we have no _time_ , Thranduil."

"Seven years is a short time, Arwen," he reminded her, even while seeing the worry in her eyes. "You must trust that Ilúvatar is going to _give_ you time."

"I am trying…" she whispered. "I _do_ trust him; I try not to worry about tomorrow. There are moments when everything is fine, when I am not thinking about it and I can breathe normally…and then…"

"I…know… Even as encouraging as I am being," he told her gently, releasing her face and resting his hands upon her shoulders, "there is something else I _should_ say. Though there is nothing that says a woman cannot conceive after such an event, you have to understand that it might be…more difficult." Tears pricked her eyes at his words; he knew those were the words she had been praying not to hear.

"I know, and it is hard enough."

"Complications during child birth are often extreme for our race." He sighed. "It is one of the reasons why I only had one son. I could not bear it again." He frowned painfully as he cut himself off. "It is difficult to think of, even now."

"I am so sorry," she whispered, "I did not mean to make you think of her, but I…sometimes the pain of the loss is so staggering. Sometimes I dream about him and I…the grief is so terrible, I do not know how I am still breathing." Her eyes closed. "Aragorn holds me, and it helps to have him near, to comfort me, to remind me to rely on Ilúvatar for strength. How can I…is there any way to…will the wound ever heal, Thranduil? Even a little?"

He looked at her so sadly. "I do not know if you want to ask _me_ that question."

She swallowed and looked down. "I _do_ mean to ask you. My father was able to accept that Celebrian was gone, but she was—"

"Not _gone_ ," he agreed, knowing the next words were going to cost him greatly. "Elrond knew that someday, he would see her again. That was one of the reasons he was so upset that you would not ever journey to the Undying Lands. You he would never see again." He sighed, knowing the next words were going to cost him greatly. "Arwen, there are times I do not even know why I am here, _how_ I am here. I watch the sunrise, and I watch it set, and some days I can sit and experience it with peace and some days…I have _wept_." He shook his head slowly. "I should answer your question. The wound will heal a little, but there will be times when it will ache as though it just happened. When we experience things, they do not fade as quickly as the race of men. That is our curse in times of despair."

"I am so sorry, Thranduil," she whispered, and looked down. He bumped her chin up with his fingers.

"You are young, Evenstar," he said kindly, "and I am old; some at one time may even have said _wise_ , though I might question how much wine they may have consumed at the time. You were not wrong to ask me. I have tried everything to accept the loss; I do not know if there _is_ a way. I will, however, as the old are charged to do, give you advice, though I have all of your father's age and none of his foresight or apprehension. You must allow Aragorn to keep you in the light; that is first and always foremost."

She tried to smile. "No, Father would never have said that."

"And second, remember that dreams only last for a little while," he said, lowering his voice, thinking about his own. "And no matter how awful and painful that dream is…you can always wake up; you can always retreat into reality." He smiled humorlessly at her. "At least, that is what I tell myself, and there Aragorn will be waiting for you. Ilúvatar brought the two of you together for a reason." He stroked her cheek. "He would not have taken the Evenstar from her people for nothing, now would he? No, he would not. Everything he does has a purpose."

"Though we may never understand," she whispered.

"No, we will not," he agreed.

In another moment, she had slipped between his arms and had hugged him close, and he held her as well. She released him and looked up into his face, "Thank you. For your encouragement and your advice, even though you did not wish to think about the past."

"I try hard not to live in it," he told her, "but it is difficult sometimes. You have much to live for yet; things will get better. I know it is challenging, but give it a bit more time." He gave her a smile. "Shall we finish some flower strings before our companions wonder what became of us?"

The two of them reentered the church then, and Annî came running straight to up to them, leaping into Arwen's arms and shouting.

"Where were you, Tiriel? I was waiting for _ages_!"

* * *

Éowyn had been feeling well enough tonight that she and Enguina had cooked dinner together. The food had been exceptional and compliments came from every corner of the table for the two of them. It so happened that when dinner had ended and the parties were heading home for the evening that Thranduil and Legolas found themselves outside with Enguina walking between them. Suddenly, her hand shot up to her forehead.

"I almost forgot!" she exclaimed as she came to a dead halt. "I have to go back in the King's House. I _have_ to talk with Arwen for a moment."

Legolas tilted his head suspiciously at her. " _Why_?"

"Because."

Both men were silent, but Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "You were with her all day."

"I just remembered," she confessed honestly. "Seriously, I will be _right_ back."

"Why do we not just all go back—" Legolas began, taking a step after her.

She planted a hand in the center of his chest. "No…this is a secret! You will spoil it if you come inside with me. Stay here with your father."

Legolas's eyebrows popped up. "Now I am _definitely_ coming inside."

" _Legolas_ ," she groaned as she turned back from the stairs, but Thranduil caught his arm.

"He is going to stay out here, Enguina; never fear," Thranduil said. When he received a look from Legolas, his father shrugged. "You would not want to ruin your own surprise, would you?"

"Definitely." He gave her a wicked grin over his father's arm. "I shall weasel it out of you later," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She blushed furiously as Thranduil laughed and pulled him away as Enguina hurried across the porch and inside. "Come," he said, tugging him. "Leave some things to mystery. Where will your excitement in life come from? Furthermore, _we_ can talk until she comes back out."

Legolas appeared intrigued. "What is it?"

"It is a difficult subject, but I must ask." He cleared his throat. "Why did you not tell me that Aragorn and Arwen had lost a child?"

Legolas tilted his head and then shook it. "I…never would have thought to tell you. I do not think it was my story to tell."

"It would have saved me a few moments of, what shall I call it, awkwardness with her this afternoon. I walked right into it, and I could not ask her to explain what had happened." He frowned at Legolas. "She was poisoned?"

He nodded. "It is a bit of a long story, but one name will answer all the questions. You cannot have forgotten Calendur."

There was such a fire lit in Thranduil's eyes that Legolas had to take a step back. "That _fiend_? _Returned?_ " Thranduil snarled, his voice low and cold as the wind through Caradhras. "I hope to Ilúvatar that he is dead or I swear by the blood of every elf he killed during his _revolution_ —"

"He is dead, Adar," Legolas said. "Gimli saw to that. Calendur's plan was fairly simple. His goal was to destroy the heart of Gondor, the Queen and her child. Relying on stealth instead of strength, he drew away the people who he knew would stand in his way. They took Enguina and rode off toward the land of Mordor, pulling Aragorn, Gimli, and myself away from Minas Tirith. Calendur's brother attacked while we were away and poisoned Arwen. Sadly, no one knew of the poisoning until it was already too late; Arwen miscarried the child and was near death when Aragorn finally arrived home. She has struggled to recover."

"That is why she seems so different to me," Thranduil said a bit more softly, though anger was evident in him. "I wish I had killed Calendur when I had the chance; I wish I had been able to find him."

"You could not have found him," he reminded him. "Calendur's ambush almost cost you your life, Adar." He shook his head. "It was my responsibility to hunt him down, and _we_ were unable to find him. We searched for so long…"

"I remember." Thranduil let out a breath and with it, most of his anger. "Enguina, was she all right? To be with Calendur for even a short period of time must have been terrifying."

"She was quite ill when we found her," he whispered, "and had been wounded by him. I was afraid that she would not recover, but she is…stronger than I knew. Aragorn was able to heal her, but there are…some things that we never fully recover from." Thranduil eyed him and then looked down, thinking. Legolas tilted his head. "What is it, Adar? You are…contemplating something very hard."

"I am unsure how to…discuss the subject with you."

Legolas stared at him. "Unsure—? What is this about?"

"You are going to become defensive," he said softly, and he watched his son's eyes harden. "You have every right to make your own choices, Legolas. I...but I would be remiss if I were not to say something to you." He sighed. "Yes, something must be said."

"Say it then," he demanded. Thranduil easily knew there was no point in saying another word; his son was headstrong. Criticism in any form was hardly his strong suit, but he _was_ Legolas's father. How could he let this go? Legolas, on the other hand, had been thinking the entire time that this moment was going to come—a moment when he would have to defend Enguina to his father. He assumed that his father would find _something_ to disapprove of, and here it was. Thranduil could practically see him preparing for the fight.

He sighed. "Legolas, I am your father," he said, far more gently than he had been speaking, "and as your father, there are certain things that I taught you since you were a child that…I believe were important lessons. You have lived for many years, and you have made many choices, mostly good, and have grown into a man that, many times over, I have wished I was." He looked down and then back into to Legolas's eyes. "Which is why I must tell you that while the choices you make are your own, and you are certainly old enough and mature enough to make them, taking this sweet girl to your bed, to be your lover, without being in wedlock is…not proper behavior for someone who knows better, who is close to the One, and has believed that same statute their entire life."

Legolas's face flushed red and he stared at his father. "What in the name of _Morgoth_ are you talking about?"

"I noticed you and Enguina last evening; I could not help but watch you, and I saw you both enter your home and…not come out until daybreak." He shook his head. "It is but a little over a week until you are wed. Could you not wait just a little while longer? I am sorry, Legolas, but this I cannot approve of. You should be waiting to share yourself with this woman on your wedding night, or you should start doing so now; it is what is right."

The admonition, no matter how untrue it was, how absurd it seemed, and no matter how kindly it had been said, infuriated Legolas. "How dare you tell me what is _appropriate_ , what is _proper_ ," he very nearly snarled. "You have _no idea_ what is happening here! You base your conclusions on something you _think_ you saw—"

"Perhaps you are right," he said gently. "Perhaps I should not have assumed you were lying with her. But I saw the two of you together late at night. Even if you were not taking her to your bed, for her to spend the night in your home, for you to stay with her at night, is still not a suitable way to behave. It is not something a gentleman should be—"

"Do _not_ judge me," he snapped.

"Legolas, calm down," Thranduil said. "You would never have brought a woman to your bed—"

"And I _have not yet_!" he cried angrily. "You do not understand what your eyes are telling your mind you _think_ that you see! It was not even my _bed_ ; it was _hers_." His blood was boiling; he was so _angry_ he could hardly think straight. "I am spending the night with— _no. No._ Why in the world do I need to explain myself to you? You do not understand, and you never will. You have no idea what is happening, and no right to tell me what I should or should not be doing. This is exactly…this is exactly what happened with _Tauriel,_ and I did not feel for her _half_ of what I am feeling now for Enguina."

His son turned away and Thranduil stepped immediately up beside him. "Do not bring her into this; Tauriel was like my child and you were my son. To have made a life with her was…would have been unfair to both of you. Legolas, can you not explain to me and I will understand? Can you not even try?" he asked reasonably. "Please, do not turn aside; talk to me."

The last thing Legolas wanted to do was to be reasonable. "Always, you are overreacting. Seeing things were there is nothing! Or judging someone where there was no reason to assume guilt! Sometimes, it is as though you do not even _know_ me!"

"Legolas, I do _try_ to understand," he insisted. "I am sorry that I leapt to that conclusion; I did not mean to assume the worst, and I was not attempting to judge you. I know what you believe, and I was surprised that you would make such a choice. If you only did not overreact, it would not be like this."

" _I_ am overreacting?" he snorted.

"If you only explained—"

"Why should I explain _anything_? You would not understand anyway," he grumbled, glaring at his father. "Mother always said we were too much alike; that was why we could never get along."

Unfathomable pain crossed Thranduil's face, and for half-a-moment, Legolas regretted bringing up his mother. "Do not…do not mention your mother when we are having a conversation like this."

Legolas crossed his arms. "You mean when we are arguing? It does not matter _when_ I bring her up; we could be sitting outside around a fire or having dinner or _arguing_ as we are now. You _never_ want to talk about her." He suddenly laughed and threw a hand into the air. "It is an _excellent_ way to get out of a conversation with you, though. Just mention mother and you run."

Behind him, Enguina appeared on the porch of the King's House and stopped when she noticed Legolas's hostile posture. Thranduil shook his head but did not notice Enguina. "Legolas, I am so sorry…I _cannot_ —"

"You have never been able to," he continued. "All these years have passed and we have never talked about what happened; what you _did_." Thranduil remained silent, his eyes closed as Legolas glared at him. "You are going to say nothing?"

"Now is not the time—" Thranduil began in his most reasonable voice, but Legolas was not hearing it. He knew that voice and he was not going to let him get away with it, not with _him_.

"You will always say that and things will always remain the same."

Thranduil's eyes popped open and he stared evenly at his son. "You always tell me that I do not understand you, that I judge you. Perhaps part of the problem is that you have a very difficult time understanding _me._ "

"You never wanted me to," Legolas stated clearly, staring back at his father. "You never even tried to explain; not _once_. Whenever I tried to speak with you, to understand, you always ran the other way. After mother died—"

"Legolas, _please_ …"

"—you retreated from the world. You ran away and hid from everyone, including me, in a moment when I truly needed my father." Legolas gave him a hard look. "You forgot that I lost her too, that I was also in pain. And then, when you did come back, you were never the same."

"I am more sorry than I can say," Thranduil whispered, "and you may never, ever be able to forgive me…and no one would blame you. But I cannot do this now."

He nodded, his face very serious. "Of course not."

"Do not do that, Legolas," he stated, finally getting a bit riled himself. "Offer me some respect. You have…you have no idea what sort of pain…what kind of existence it is to live…to be…" He shook his head, and Legolas turned away to see Enguina standing at the top of the stair, hand on the railing, simply watching their exchange.

Legolas did not appear at all embarrassed that she had heard his conversation, but _she_ was embarrassed she had. He looked up at her and extended his hand; she did not know what else to do but take it. He was angry; she could feel it in the grip of his hand, but she did not need to fear him. His quarrel, his irritation, was clearly not with her. She looked into his face as she stepped down beside him.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, and though she glanced over towards Thranduil, he did not look up, nor did he attempt to engage them in conversation.

"Fine," he stated, his tone clipped. "It is late. Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, and he began to lead her away with him, heading towards her guesthouse. There was no way she could pass Thranduil without saying _something_ , and as Legolas had said everything was fine though she knew very well it was not, she invited him to walk with them. "Are you going to walk with us, Thranduil?" she asked softly, but he shook his head.

"Good evening, Enguina," he replied, and she followed Legolas. He could not pretend things were all right between them; Legolas was angry, and Thranduil supposed he had every right to be. He straightened, setting his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back. He closed his eyes and simply stood in the moonlight.

"Thranduil," called Arwen's soft voice from the bottom of the stairs to the King's House, and he turned his head to see her standing there, Aragorn at the top of the steps, leaning against the porch. "Would you like to sit with us for a while? We would welcome the company."

He smiled sadly at her. "I am afraid, my dear, that I would be poor company at the moment. My little brawl with my son has left me…tired. Forgive me." He bowed his head.

"There is much on your mind," Aragorn said gently, and Thranduil nodded.

"But nothing that I would be willing to discuss."

Arwen frowned. "I wish there was something we could do."

"Nothing changes the past, my dear," he told her gently. "But do not worry; we will sort ourselves before the wedding. Good night, both of you." And with those words, he walked away silently into the night.

Arwen watched him go and then climbed the steps to stand at Aragorn's side, leaning her head upon his shoulder. "It upsets me to see him so…sad, so lonely. He is so…changed," she said sadly as she felt Aragorn rest his head upon hers. "If you had only known him before, you would see it as clearly as I have."

"Despair, grief," Aragorn said gently, "these wounds never truly heal. Thranduil has never found a way to live with the grief; he survives instead."

"He has no idea why he is still here," Arwen sighed. "Sometimes I still wonder whether _I_ am living or surviving."

"We are living, my love. Living." He kissed her forehead and slipped his arms around her as she laid her head against his chest. He sighed as he then laid his head upon hers and dragged his fingers lazily through her hair. "How do you want to spend the rest of this evening?"

"Read to me tonight?" she whispered softly, and he smiled.

"Of course," he replied. "Come inside, beloved."


	39. Chapter 39

Legolas was very quiet, and it disturbed her. He clearly did not want to speak, but there were many things on his mind as he sat by the window looking out into the night. She felt guilty that she had heard the end of their conversation when it had been private, when she had not meant to. No, she needed to talk to him, to draw him out. She had seen him sullen like this only a handful of times, and every time she hated it more. It was so unlike his personality.

She came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

" _Legolas_ ," she murmured, drawing out his name in a sing-song voice.

He gave a little smirk, though she could not see it. "That is a voice I have not heard before. I think I like it…quite a lot.

"I could sing to you," she offered, unsure where the suggestion came from or why she was suggesting it to begin with.

He turned his head. "You are trying to make me feel better," he accused, his eyebrows raised.

"I know you are upset."

Legolas sighed and closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair and then rested her hands on the sides of his neck. "I…" He had no intention of telling her, of talking to her about it, but here he was. "Thranduil thinks I am acting dishonorably towards you."

She stared at him, stunned, and he opened his eyes. "Why? How could you be?"

"Oh, he saw us…or at least what he _thinks_ he saw," he said bitterly. "He thinks I am taking you to my bed out of wedlock. He saw me take you here last night and not come out until morning. He thinks we are bedding each other."

She was silent for a moment, thinking. "I…hate that he thinks you would even think of that when you are such a gentleman, but…we _did_ know that people would talk." She looked guilty, and his eyes became full of irritation.

"Not my own father."

"Perhaps if I just _told_ him—"

" _No_ ," he interrupted firmly. "We should not have to explain anything. We are doing nothing wrong; we are together for several reasons, all of them important. What is more, we are going to be wed in eight days; _that_ is what matters, not whether we are sleeping with each other."

"Legolas, it does matter," she murmured. "I would hate to think that you were the most honorable man imaginable and then you gave up those principles because you met me. That is what Thranduil is probably thinking. He does not understand—"

"Exactly," he stated. "He leapt to conclusions. After all this time when I have never, _ever_ taken another woman to my bed, he thinks I would betray _your_ honor?"

"Would it be betraying my honor if I _gave_ myself to you? Or asked you to have me?" she asked, shaking her head. "No, therefore, it is a possibility that he thinks—"

"That is even _worse_!" Legolas cried, horrified. "To think something like that of you is—"

"But your father does not know me as you do," she reminded him.

He reached up and covered his ears. "I will _not_ think of you this way. _I will not_." He stood and turned away from her, crossing his arms in agitation. "Stop speaking of it. It disgusts me."

"I do not like it when you are arguing with someone," she said softly, feeling awkward speaking to his back. "Your father is only here for a short time. Can we not simply explain—"

"We do not need to explain anything," Legolas repeated, shaking his head. "We are doing nothing wrong." There was silence behind him, and then he felt her hands on his arms.

"How did your mother enter that conversation?" she asked gently, and she felt the rigidness leak out of him.

"I…was angry," he whispered. "I did not mean to…" He shook his head. "No, I meant to wound him. I _was_ angry, and I was wrong to mention her." He sighed, and lowered his head. "My greatest fault. I knew that bringing her into the conversation was wrong, and I was too volatile to prevent myself from doing it. Temper and words. My greatest faults."

She slipped her hands up his arms, up under his hair, and towards the back of his neck. "And your greatest strength," she whispered. "You can make it right with your words, too. Give it tonight; speak with your father tomorrow." She felt the tension within his neck and slowly pressed the pads of her fingertips into his muscles. "I believe your father has a strength that he passed to you."

"What is that?"

"Forgiveness."

He chuckled softly. "That was _not_ passed to me at all, and if it had been, it would not have been from my father. I do not forgive easily, Guin. There is much proof of that in our conversation tonight. If it was easy to forgive, that conversation would never have taken place." He sighed. "But I will speak with him tomorrow; I do thank you for that encouragement." Legolas turned about to face her and brought her hands down from his neck. "You really need to stop doing that," he murmured, and she leaned a bit closer to him.

"Why?"

"Because…" _I am feeling a great amount of desire for you right now…and your hands on my neck are fueling that desire the more you touch my skin._ "My neck is fine, now," he told her. "And it is time for sleep."

She smiled at him. "It _is_ a night for sleep," she replied. "We should turn in early; we have training with Aragorn tomorrow." She touched his face and lowered her voice. "In spite of what your father said, will you stay with me?"

He refrained from kissing her though he wanted to. "I am not leaving your side now," he reminded her. "Even if my father were to forbid me to see you, I would disobey. You are forced to be with me from here to forever; no separation. I am here for good."

She sighed. "Thank Ilúvatar," she whispered. "I thought I might have to beg."

"No begging required," he said with a little smile.

Within a few moments, she was curled up against his chest; again, the blanket was between them, but this did not hinder her from getting as close as she could get. She pressed her lips beneath his chin and whispered to him, "Just think, Legolas…only seven more days as of tomorrow."

He chuckled as his arms tightened around her. " _I can hardly wait_." But he made sure to keep everything else to himself.

* * *

"These are the most delicious muffins I have ever eaten, Legolas," Enguina rejoiced as they walked along together. They were on the third level now, making their way to the church so that she could show Legolas what they had worked on the day before and how beautiful it looked. Meeting Aragorn around the lunch hour to practice sparring left them with some time to waste.

"They are the same muffins we have eaten before, _moina_ ," he teased her.

She sighed. "I know, but I could really get used to this. Walking with you, eating breakfast with you every single morning—"

"Waking upto me every single morning," he murmured, a sparkle in his eyes. "I know that is one of the many things I look forward to about you. To be honest, I am already enjoying it. Seeing those lovely eyes when I first open mine? How could I not look forward to that?" He leaned over and kissed her temple, and she popped another piece of muffin in her mouth, eyeing him shyly.

"It would be improper if I were to agree with you."

"There is no reason to be proper," he complained. "It is only the two of us."

She shook her head. "I will not admit to it. By the way, I was wondering where you were before dinner yesterday. I _know_ you had your tunic fitting, but I thought you were going to come to the church afterwards and yet you never arrived."

He smiled. "Never you mind."

She grinned, leaning into him as they walked. "Did it have anything to do with gifts?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "What would make you think a silly thing like that? Am I not present enough for you? Unwrap me, Guin; I am all yours."

"Hold your horses, Greenleaf," she said wryly, but the blush on her face was enough to make him grin. "Honestly, the dwarf may have slipped a bit."

"What? He used to be such a loyal friend…and then he met you."

"Well, do not get taken next time," she explained matter-of-factly. "Nearly two weeks of travelling with someone will do that to you; you should understand that."

He shook his head. "I shall have to have words with him."

"Do not be too harsh. He only slipped because I was weaseling, and he was distracted by Thranduil. I easily took advantage of him."

He laughed. "You know, I almost forgot of something I wanted to speak to you about," he said. "I was thinking last night, as I was watching you sleep, about the woods of my homeland. I remembered something that…well…there is a tradition. It is an old tradition of the Woodland Elves, that…" He shook his head and chuckled softly. "I do not know if I even want to tell you. You might laugh in my face."

"A tradition? What sort of tradition? A wedding tradition?"

"It is more a ritual, I suppose, than a tradition. But it is…sort of a secret tradition."

"Well if it is so secret," she laughed, "how do _you_ know about it?"

"You are laughing at me."

"No I _most certainly_ am not!" she replied with a grin on her face. "I really want to know!"

He sighed, blushing a bit. "My mother told me of it many, many years ago. I think she had a feeling I would marry outside our own Realm; she was a bit strict when it came to tradition."

"Tell me."

"A few days before the wedding, the bride's mother would tell her all about the tradition so she could perform the ritual. The bride would then bathe in a special concoction of herbs and dirt and then rinse clean. It was an act that would prepare her for marriage."

She raised her eyebrows. "And I need to be prepared? To do this for you?"

He raised his hands in the air. "Not for me!" he laughed. "I have nothing to do with it!"

"Right, right… _tradition_."

"Yes," he said, blushing.

"I do not think I have ever seen you more embarrassed about anything," she said with a giggle. "I am all astonishment! Pray, what is _in_ this 'blend' I am supposed to bathe in?"

"Are you sure you want to—"

"I am _certain_. If it is tradition, I want to do it," she told him firmly.

"You get some dirt—it should be enough to cover your whole body—and mix it with water—"

"That is _mud_ , Legolas," she giggled. "You cannot simply say 'mud?'"

"No, this is not just any _mud_ ," he told her, poking her in the nose. "You have to mix it yourself. After you have done that, there are several special things you have to stir into it before you spread it on your skin." He tried hard not to imagine her spreading anything on her skin. It was _difficult_.

"Yes?" she asked, a slow smile spreading across her face. "And what are these things?"

He swallowed, shaking his head slightly, blushing more at his inappropriate thoughts and wondering where in the world they were coming from. "The first are mushrooms…these are to ward off the ill-effects of quarrels or strife in our—"

"Does that mean we will not have any quarrels?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. "I did not know bathing my skin in mushrooms would prevent that!"

"You are mocking me," he said with surprise, and she smiled at him.

"Go on."

"Another are dandelion herbs and birch leaves. These are to be ground separately and then combined, to represent you and me, the coming together of two different people, of our separate ways to be joined together. Poured into the mixture along with some honey."

"Honey? At least I will _smell_ good," she said with a giggle.

"Without a doubt," he muttered before clearing his throat to continue. "Essence of lavender, coriander, and sage are added for health and protection and comfort. Then, you must add some moss from a favorite tree—to help us through the slippery times in our marriage."

She burst out laughing. "Oh Ilúvatar! You _have_ to be making this up, Legolas!"

"Go ahead and laugh if you want," he stated, laughing as well. "But you should not question it."

"Because it is tradition, I suppose?"

"Exactly. Just go with it."

She rolled her eyes, and leaned into his shoulder, popping the last bit of muffin into her mouth. "Please, do finish. What are the final ingredients that would please your mother?"

"You must crack an egg for strength in trouble." He smiled. "Then ladybugs for love."

"Ladybugs? Ooo…where can I find a jar full of _those_?" She slipped her arm through his, really leaning into him as they neared the church. "Perhaps several buckets-full, if they are indeed for love."

"Lastly, you need strawberries…crushed strawberries for childbearing."

She stopped him and slipped her arms around his neck, crisscrossing her fingers. "Legolas," she whispered, her tone completely serious, "there will be more strawberries in this mud than there will be mud. And ladybugs…lots and lots of ladybugs." He rested his hands on her waist and she leaned into him. "I mean that, you know. With all of the chaos that happens with our race, we will need all the luck we can get."

"I do not think we need any luck," he whispered. "We only need you and I…and that will be enough." He closed the distance between their lips and kissed her soundly with her leaning into him.

Enguina leaned her forehead against his. "Mmm…you know, I may laugh at your tradition, but I will probably be doing it later."

He chuckled. "Later…later when?"

"Never you mind," she teased. "I am sure you will know when I do it…you shall certainly smell that particular combination of scents." He lifted the edges of her hair in one hand, curling them around his fingers.

"I cannot wait."

She laughed, kissed him briefly, and slipped out of his arms. "My, you _are_ bolder, are you not?"

"You invited me," he pointed out, unashamed. "Therefore you are to blame."

She grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind her. "Yes, well, as I cannot have a serious conversation with you, let us get to the church where you cannot possibly be bold."

"And why is that?" he chuckled as he followed her up the front steps. "Because it is a church?"

"Exactly," she agreed as she entered, releasing his hand, but he paused at the door instead of following her in. He stood, framed there in the doorway, watching her walk slowly up the aisle, flowers hanging all around bringing out the beauty in every corner of the sanctuary. He sighed.

"Oh…it is _so_ good that you have not an _inkling_ of what I am feeling right now, my lovely Guin."

She turned and glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Coming, my prince?"

* * *

 _In the east the sun is rising_

 _Towards the light I lift my eyes_

 _The dark of night is passing over_

 _The morn will sweep all grief aside_

 _Yet o'er the meadow still and warm_

 _Returns a breeze of memory_

 _The coming haunts and chills the heart_

 _The sun goes dark and cold_

 _Alone, even the light is dark_

 _Alone, the shadows grow_

 _What is this woe that will not turn?_

 _What is this woe that clings to me?_

 _There is no shelter from its grip_

 _It holds, it pulls, it tears_

 _But I, though oft in vain, I try_

 _I fight, straining toward the light_

 _And forget, forget the grief,_

 _The awful ache you bring_

Arwen stood on the edge of the garden, listening to the song softly sung in low, precise Elvish. She felt the ache in her heart at the words, knew she should not intrude, even chastised herself that it was not her place. She thought of the many things that had never been her place to say, to ask probing questions, to step in when she should not have…she had no choice. If Ilúvatar had placed her here, should she say nothing? Should everything that she felt go unsaid? Should everything _he_ felt go unspoken, unheard? _Father, give me an ear…and give me words._

She stepped quietly around the edge of the bushes and came into view of him, standing before the blooming flowers, a small knife in one hand, a pale blue blossom in the other. Barefoot, she barely made a sound as she drew closer to him. He looked up slowly, as though he had known all along she was there, gave her a brief smile, and then returned to the flowers.

"Good morning, Evenstar," he said, deftly pruning back a few weeds with his knife so the flower stood out to the sunlight. She stopped beside him and watched for several moments before she spoke.

"Good morning, Thranduil," she replied gently. "I was beginning to get worried when you did not join us for breakfast. I thought perhaps if I came looking for you I might find you walking here."

"It is quiet," he replied. "To be honest, I did not think Legolas and I were ready to meet yet. I thought it best to avoid my son this morning. If I know my son, he is not ready to apologize and I…am not ready to have the conversation he feels we need to have." He sighed softly. "I do not know if I will ever be ready."

"You have not slept."

He turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, you _know_ this look, do you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice full of compassion as she laid a hand on his arm. "I have seen it in my own mirror, staring back at me, and on the face of a dear friend on many occasions. I am familiar with the look of the haunted."

"You would be," he said, lowering the knife. "And you are right."

"I know it is not my place," she whispered, "but I would listen if I could help you. You are so… _sad_ , Thranduil; the words of your song wrench my heart. Is there nothing I can do? Is there nothing you can say that will ease your heart?"

He gave her a smile full of sorrow. "My child, you are so _young_. I know more about grief than you will ever…no…" Thranduil sighed. "I would be remiss if I were to say that, would I not?"

"Yes," she replied gravely. "You would."

He sighed heavily again, and then reached out, took her arm, and led her to the grass beneath their feet. There, the two of them sat across from each other and she looked into his handsome face. He was so full of strength but so full of sadness; it made her heart ache.

"I cannot speak to Legolas of his mother," he whispered, looking down into the grass. "Do you understand why?"

"I know that you carry the heavy weight of grief with you always, Thranduil. I know that you have for a great many years. Legolas came to visit me once in Imladris after she had been taken, and he said that you and he were struggling. I was thinking that you simply cannot think of her; it is too painful."

"It is so painful," he replied, his soft voice full of distress, "that my heart feels as though I repeatedly stab it with this blade. Legolas loved his mother, but I…I worshipped her." He paused for a moment, thinking about those words. "That was wrong, but that was what I felt for her; it was blasphemous. I felt that Ilúvatar had put me on this earth for a single purpose—to love her, and nothing else. I do not know if you know the story of how she and I met, but it is a thrilling tale." He gave her a sorrowful smile, though his voice was strong. "She was the other half of my heart, as Aragorn's is yours, as Enguina is Legolas's. Your father should have understood that you would never have been able to leave Aragorn…he was a fool to try to make you," he scoffed, "and yet, we are speaking of me, are we not?

"When…Glosvana was taken," he whispered, "my whole world came apart. I sacrificed everything I could to find her, to search for her captors. When we finally found her—" His voice cut out; he could not possibly finish. "What they had done to her…Legolas and Fânrim slaughtered every last one of them. But it was the time after she had been murdered that was the most difficult for Legolas. I was…" He shook his head. "I was unfit to be a King during that time. I could not even bear to look at him, to see her eyes in his face…the pain was too much. Legolas spent as much time out of the Greenwood during that time as possible; I seldom saw him, and it was easier on the both of us.

"And it was _wrong_ , my dear…terribly wrong. My heart is full of shame even now, guilt. It was in those few years that I questioned my existence; why in the name of all things holy was I still there?" He looked at her and gave her a small smile. "I begged for it, you know; I asked Ilúvatar to take me. I did not eat for days at a time…and still, I did not die. I felt as though my heart stopped beating, but it was still. After so long a time, after begging for death, after trying to reunite with her that way and not succeeding, I thought there must be a reason. There _must_ ," he said, closing his eyes. "So I live. At times I feel as though I survive, not live, but there it is. I continue to live, with no purpose."

He looked up at her with sad eyes. "And that is why I cannot speak to Legolas. How can I tell him that I wanted to die, that I wanted so badly to be with her that I would give up my life, my kingdom, my only son, to find her again? How could I dare? He could not…he could not possibly understand. No matter how much Legolas missed her, he would not take his own life to be with his mother." He looked down at the grass beneath his feet. "He would never have tried to take his own life; not as I did so…so many times."

Arwen reached over and wrapped her hands around his. "I think that he might understand that more now," she whispered. "Knowing how changed his life is with Enguina in it, knowing that it hurts to be away from her, he might understand the thought of it being impossible to live life without her. I think he would empathize now, where before he could not."

"That is probably true," he said softly. "Legolas has never looked at another creature the way he looks into her face."

"Does that upset you?"

"Does it…upset you to see other children?" he asked gently, and she sighed.

"Sometimes," she replied honestly. "Sometimes it is the most awful feeling in the world, but I try to press it away. At night," she added, acknowledging his song, "that is when the demons haunt."

"Yes," he agreed. "Night is always the worst. But I can honestly say, Evenstar, I…have no _idea_ why I am still here. All these years I have lived in…bitterness? Pride? Grimness? I have tried to find love in other things; I find peace in flowers, in the beauty of them; I was a bit thoughtless of other peoples for a time, focused on defending the Greenwood and forgetting about the concerns of others. But why am I here? There is nothing to answer that question." He sighed. "Sometimes I think Ilúvatar lets me live out of spite for trying to take my life."

"Thranduil, it is…so difficult to choose to live," she agreed. "I truly believe that some nights the only reason I do not wake screaming is because Aragorn is beside me. I know you do not have that blessing, but to continue to face this task as you have has made you stronger. Legolas loves you; even though Enguina has been nervous about meeting you and Legolas has been nervous about you meeting her, there has been nothing he has wanted more. He has been _yearning_ for your approval of Enguina for months, to show you what he has found in her, for you to be proud of him."

"I am," he said. "Legolas is a better man than I could ever hope to be, and Enguina is more precious than gold."

"She is," Arwen agreed with a teasing smile. "I am glad you see that."

"How could one not notice? I know that Legolas will be a trustworthy, caring husband, and an excellent father. It is clear that she adores him as much as he, her. I could not be happier for him than I feel. I…always wanted the best for him, for him to find happiness as I had found in…her. He loves her, he will treat her well…she could not ask for a better man."

"No, she could not. That was what I kept telling her," she told him. She squeezed Thranduil's hands. "And do not worry about your purpose, Thranduil. As you said to me, Ilúvatar will show all to us in his time. We must be patient, yes?"

He gave her a little smile at the gentleness in her voice. "I needed to hear your encouragement. It has been…many years since someone told me that I not completely mad. That eventually, things are going to work out for good…even when I cannot see it."

"You told _me_ that," she said kindly. "Perhaps we both needed to hear it from someone else."

There was a comfortable silence between them and then Thranduil smiled. "Your compassionate heart reminds me so much of your mother, but the reason in your voice, the wisdom…that is your father. I do miss him, his friendship."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I think," he said, getting to his feet, "that I might continue to prune some of these blooms for a bit. When are Aragorn and the soon-to-be-weds headed this direction?" She smiled.

"About the lunch hour. Do you think you will prune that long? I can sit and keep you company; I brought a book with me."

"My dear, I could be here _forever_ , and then begin again. I am…a bit passionate when it comes to flowers and things that grow."

"Then please, let me sit near you as you cut away?"

"You would be most welcome."

* * *

The city of Minas Tirith was even more beautiful than Éomer remembered it. It was a sheer delight to be here among the Gondorians again. Many of them he knew quite well and was looking forward to spending time with them, but he was most especially looking forward to seeing his old fellowship of friends, his sister and brother, and his new niece. He was so very lucky that he had made it in time; the wedding was in only a few days, and he was relieved when he had come over the rise and seen Rammas Echor, the outer wall of the Pelennor.

Riding up through the City alone held many benefits to Éomer; he had left his entourage near the inner gate as two of his men's horses had thrown shoes. For once, he was able to greet some of the citizens he knew on the streets and ride at his pleasure. Firefoot, his dappled mount, took his time and greeted the smaller children as Éomer looked around the fourth level. Aragorn, though he had barely wanted to be King, had done quite well here. He was eager to see the child he knew was to be born to the two of them; with Arwen being the Evening, the child would be a special blessing. He just knew it.

Éomer himself had been named King before he had quite been ready, but he, too, had taken to the job as though it had been meant to be. With Théodred gone, Théoden had no heir aside from him, and Éowyn had to go running off here to marry Faramir. The duty of kingship now fell to him. Then he, himself, had fallen in love with Imrahil's daughter Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, and they had been happily married for nearly five years themselves. He smiled just to think of her, though several young women he was riding past thought he was smiling at them.

"Still making the ladies swoon, brother?" Éomer heard Faramir's voice even through the giggling of several young women, and he grinned broadly, tugging Firefoot to a halt so he could dismount. "I would have thought Lothíriel would have squashed that out of you years ago."

"Faramir!" he cried, dropping his helm over the pommel of his saddle as he reached for his brother-by-marriage. "By Eru in Heaven, it is good to see your face, hear your voice! It has been too long since you have called me brother!"

Faramir hugged him and Éomer laughed as he glanced around behind him. "Where are your men? You certainly did not ride here all on your own! And where is Lothíriel? Did she not come with you?"

"I left my men at the gate; we were tired of each other. It is with a massively heavy heart that I must only bring tidings from Lothíriel. As you know, Elfwine is far too young to make a journey like this, even in springtime, and you know only too well what it is like to travel with a woman and child."

Faramir stared at him. "Why did you not send word? Éowyn is going to go into hysterics when she finds out that you are to have another child. You two are quick!"

"Dear heavens, no," Éomer denied. "Lothíriel is not pregnant again, she only just had our first, Faramir! What are you, daft?"

Faramir shrugged and laughed. "Forgive me, Éomer, I forget the time! When was your son born? I cannot even recall when we received your last letter; so much has happened since then."

"Elfwine was born not a month ago. Lothíriel had a…difficult time," he murmured, "and she is not yet fully recovered. A long trip on horseback would not be suitable for her." His eyes grew tired. "She was long in labor and very, very weak. We had to find a wet nurse for Elfwine; Lothíriel was unable to take care of him."

Faramir looked worried. "Is she all right? My Lord, Éomer, we had no idea! Why did you not send word? Éowyn and I could have—"

"No, she is recovering. The first week was the most difficult; I thought I might lose her. And she _forbid_ me to stay with her, telling me that I must visit you and bear her good will and that I must attend Legolas's wedding! Where _is_ the lucky elf, anyway?"

Faramir nodded up towards the higher levels of Minas Tirith. "He is with his bride and I believe Gimli and Aragorn at least should be there as well. King Thranduil, Legolas's father, has arrived already—I do not know if he and Arwen were supposed to be there today, too. It seems though that everyone is up there but me—work and work and work, Éomer; you know how it is," he ended flippantly.

"Oh, right," the horseman snorted, "as if that is all you do. You are such a fool, Faramir."

"Come now, brother," he said softly, leaning in closer to him. "You must admit that life is too short to work all day. Time is better spent on…other things."

Éomer laughed. "Yes, I remind myself of that every time I waste a few extra minutes watching my newborn sleep." He shook his head. "I honestly never pictured myself a good father. It is so difficult to be away from him now…and Lothíriel, of course."

Faramir nodded. "I find it difficult to be away from Éowyn, and she is not three levels away from me." He took the man's elbow and nudged him forward. "Come, let us walk as we speak."

"And how is my dear sister and niece? Behaving, I hope?"

"Annî is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to our lives," Faramir admitted. "But I am as worried for Éowyn at this time as you were with Lothíriel. She has not been feeling at all well, and she has nearly another month yet. She has been ill, tired, many headaches, not much patience." He frowned and Éomer smirked.

"She wants to boss you around, hmm? There is only so much of that a man can handle."

Faramir shook his head. "No, no, the bossing is fine. It is the rest of it that is… _unnatural._ Normally, she is so strong. I am worried for her, though yesterday and it seemed today have been better. She was to meet Legolas and Enguina at the church early this morning, but I am uncertain of her agenda after that. She might still be there, but she may have headed home since Legolas and Enguina were to be at the gardens about this hour."

"I am wounded that no one but yourself showed up to greet me," he teased, and Faramir shoved him. "You know, you seem different to me, Faramir. Not too different, but…different nonetheless."

Faramir gave him a brief smile. "A brush with death alters many things, Éomer." He knew that Éomer was about to ask him fifteen questions about that, but he shook his head. "Perhaps later when we are sitting with Éowyn, we will tell you the story. That is if Annî will permit us and she does not spend her time telling you about ponies and kittens and her dolls, and then climbing all over you and all that. You know Annî, boisterous since the moment she was conceived."

"Like her mother."

"Just so. So what are your thoughts? To Éowyn? To the gardens? To food?" He laughed. "You have been travelling all morning; you must be famished!"

Éomer looked thoughtful. "All right, then. Here are my requirements. Let us visit the garden to see my old friends, then whoever is interested shall come with us to the nearest tavern for a drink and some lunch on myself, and then to Éowyn and the little one for the afternoon. How does that sound?"

"Exceptional plan; so long as I get to buy us a round!"

"I shall let you get two! You owe me a celebratory drink for Elfwine's birth!"

* * *

"Oof!"

Legolas exhaled sharply as he rolled across the grass and out of Aragorn's strike range. He rotated onto his knees and held Eldarnar upright, leaning heavily on his left arm. Aragorn stood not three paces from him, Mennev's balanced sword in his hand; he felt Andúril was a bit much for training purposes, and he would have been right. None of them were ready for the hand-and-a-half sword coming ploughing down onto them yet.

"Get that smile off your face," Legolas groaned. "I want my knives."

The elf already knew how much he missed the lightness, the spinning, the easy maneuvering that made the white knives he had once carried so special, so _fun_. So deadly, so accurate; they were extensions of his hands. Eldarnar, even though it was such a light blade, felt awkward and heavy in his hand, making him feel clumsy…like a little child learning to swing a sword for the first time.

"There shall be no whining while training!" called Arwen, a gentle tease in her voice from the hedgerow where she sat with her back against the bushes and a book in her hand.

"Then _you_ come out here and get knocked around for a few minutes!" he called back, agitated.

"Get sparring, Legolas," said Thranduil, waving a hand. "You are boring Enguina." He, too, sat against the hedgerow, but unlike Arwen he held no book. Instead, he held a smile knife and was pruning the roses around her.

Enguina giggled. "Tired yet?" She knew that Legolas and Thranduil had not exactly 'made up' yet, but at least they were communicating with each other. She was glad that the two of them could still be cordial.

"A bit," grumbled Legolas and Aragorn laughed.

"That is not the elf I—"

Legolas lunged to his feet and Aragorn spun aside, allowing Eldarnar's blade to glance off his sword. They traded several blows and Legolas watched the man closely, even as he fought him. There was something exceptional, something astonishing in Aragorn's footwork, and even Thranduil and Arwen paused to watch the two of them battle it out. Legolas had to give ground a time or two, but then finally, Aragorn's footwork was his undoing.

"Watch!" cried Enguina, her hands flying up to cup her face in worry as Aragorn dove beneath Legolas's lunge and spun out his foot, dropping to one knee and taking Legolas out at the ankles before he could think quickly enough to leap over them.

 _THUMP!_

" _Damn!_ " huffed Legolas, trying to catch his breath while laughing at the same time. He dropped his head back into the grass, staring at the steel of Aragorn's blade resting near his throat. "Well, I am dead this time."

Aragorn laughed as he withdrew the sword and extended his hand, pulling the elf to his feet as he clasped his arm. "Watch those feet, Legolas."

"Yes, I _know_ , you arrogant—"

"Do not resort to name-calling!" called Arwen and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Ooo," Aragorn whispered to him, raising his eyebrows, "you were yelled at."

"And no taunting, either," Arwen reminded him, looking up and giving him 'the look.'

"Ha!" said Legolas, shoving Aragorn gently.

Aragorn grinned at him. "Ready to go again?"

"Not quite. Why do you not take on Enguina for a few moments while I catch my breath?" he said honestly, and Aragorn nodded and stepped back, glancing over to Enguina who had already been on her way over.

"Up for that?"

She nodded. "Sure." She looked at Legolas and then reached over on his back and brushed some grass and twigs from his tunic. "That did not look nice. Are you hurt?"

He smiled at her. "Only my pride. Please, kick his ass for me, will you?"

Aragorn burst out laughing and turned away as Enguina blushed. "I think that is highly unlikely if _you_ cannot best him."

"If I had my knives—"

"But you do not!" Thranduil pointed out. "And you _asked_ him to teach you, you know."

Legolas groaned. "I _know_." He kissed Enguina on the forehead and walked away, throwing himself down beside Arwen who was still reading her book. She did look up at him when he was seated just as Gimli came through the rows.

"What'd I miss? Aw, ya started already?!" he grumbled. "Aragorn's winning, I suppose?"

"I am sure no one expected any less," Enguina said softly, and Arwen shook her head.

"Why is this suddenly about winning?" she asked, looking towards Gimli who took a seat beside Legolas, Thranduil still trimming. "I thought the idea was to learn? You did do quite well, you know."

Legolas sighed. "I am making amateur mistakes. I should know better, but it has been too long since I have wielded anything but those twin blades. He is too good…but in a fair fight, in an actual duel—"

"Stop groaning!" laughed Enguina, drawing the lone knife. "You are simply irritated that he kicked your behind." Eldarnar was far too heavy for her and any other sword simply would not do. The knife was light, and if she learned how to use it well, it would serve her just as it had served Legolas for many years.

"If you want to take me out," Aragorn called to him, "then come out here and take me out."

Legolas raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were on _my_ side, Guin. And honestly, I would like to see _Arwen_ take you out."

Arwen rolled her eyes and lifted her book. "My knee is still sore, and there would not be anything to see."

"I think she was saying she could take you," laughed Enguina, but Aragorn ignored them and nodded to her.

"Begin," he said gently, and she approached him slowly, working at feeling the blade and working on focus, trying to ignore that everyone was watching her.

Arwen sighed. "There would be no point because I would lose, _quite_ horribly, I am sure. I have no intention of ever crossing blades with my own husband."

"What about you, Thranduil?" asked Gimli, looking up. "How about _you_ and Aragorn?"

"No, I think not," he said softly, looking down at the dwarf. "I think I would prefer to prune these roses."

Enguina smiled and then shook her head. "It is just as well, Thranduil. Though perhaps you will change your mind after I fail miserably."

"Confidence, Enguina," Aragorn stated after the two of them had crossed blades through several parries and moves. "Do not focus on them; ignore them and keep your mind here."

"It is difficult," she said, sighing, a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, stop looking at me!" laughed Legolas, and she blushed furiously.

Aragorn glanced over at Legolas and called out, "And no commentary from the bushes or you can come back out here and be the pincushion."

"I am not _that_ bad!" Enguina scoffed. "I should teach you a lesson for that!"

"Please do."

They sparred back and forth as she moved from offensive to defensive and back again, sometimes more quickly than before. She switched suddenly to offensive and slashed low, causing him to block in front of his waist.

"Oh-ho!" they heard Gimli cry from the bushes, and Aragorn's eyebrows rose at her.

"That was a bit below the belt," he said, and he saw her little grin even through the sweat on her face.

"I was trying to catch you off guard."

"That would not have been kind had you hit me."

"Aside from the simple fact that my knife will never get close enough to actually _touch_ you," she laughed. "I doubt you would ever let me _get_ that close."

"Not with that blade," he laughed. "I would knock you on the ground before I would let Legolas's knife poke me."

"But I am a lady!" she laughed indignantly. "You cannot simply knock me on the ground!"

"Watch me if you try that again."

She burst out laughing and went on the offensive again, spinning the light blade into his blade and he smiled as they crossed swords back and forth, him pushing her back across the lawn. Once again she tried ducking beneath his block, going below the belt, and he knocked her away as she gave a chuckle. She was not laughing three seconds later when she found herself rolling across the grass in the same maneuver Legolas had, except Aragorn had come right after her. She turned back to one knee and raised her arms in a two-handed defensive block; Mennev's sword crashed into the knife, the blades locked and he raised his eyebrows at her over the swords.

"Ouch," she said softly. "You hit pretty hard."

"You look good covered with grass."

"I do not know if my knees will ever be the same."

"Give them a few more times to fall on them," he teased. "You will learn quickly to stay on your feet." That set a fire in her, and she pushed him back, unlocking their blades and giving her room to get up. She glared at him for his comment, though he seemed unfazed, and they began again, knocking each other back and forth across the field. It was decidedly more heated, and Thranduil and Arwen stopped to watch as they began to hear Gimli's commentary.

"Oh, _that_ was a close one!" the dwarf exclaimed.

"Move your feet!" Aragorn said to her as he advanced. She actually listened, even though she was still irritated with him. _Good…you are learning._ There was a moment of break, and Aragorn smiled at her. "Want to take a breath?"

She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I am finally warmed up."

He nodded, and she came at him again.

At the hedgerow, Thranduil crossed his arms. "A bit more intense than your bout, Legolas," he said softly, and his son nodded.

"Yes," replied Legolas, watching them intently. "I do not know what your thoughts are, Arwen, but I do not desire to see Enguina in the Houses of Healing today."

Arwen shook her head. "He is testing her, I think. How can he teach her if he does not learn what she knows? He will stop her before she gets too full of heat."

"We should trust him, I suppose," Legolas mumbled. "I would think that he would protect her from herself." But his eyes remained fixed on them.

Enguina's arms trembled when their swords finally crossed after another five minutes of pushing back and forth and spinning about to be in reversed directions; Aragorn was now in the position where Enguina had begun. She was beginning to tire, and she knew it was obvious to both of them. She did _not_ however, want to give in yet. She had not been 'killed' yet, so she was not quite ready to be done.

"You…are…tough on me," she whispered, breathless, and he grinned at her over their swords. "Tougher than you were on Legolas."

"How will I know what you know if I am not?" he returned. "Do not hold back, Enguina…we are nearly done." He smiled at her even though he was breathing hard as well. "One final push, whatever you have left—full strength. Do not hold back."

 _Do not hold back? All right then, Aragorn!_

She tried to think of a way that was going to make him eat those words, and with a hard shove towards his right shoulder, she propelled him backwards and away from her. She fought him back, trying to corner him against the rosebushes, pushing on the offensive—but suddenly, she was on the _defensive_ as he whirled aside and came back, reversing positions with her. She knew immediately he was pushing her weaker side; she felt the pressure on her body of having to fight nearly backhand, and the fury it brought since he was doing it on purpose fueled her. She lunged at him, swiping in a smashing backhand with the force of her blade, knocking his aside and bringing the hilt down sharply into his shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but only because Aragorn had time to twist away to _make_ it a glancing blow. Arwen's book fell from her fingers as she sat up straighter, and though Legolas did not turn, he knew what she had seen.

"Was that his—"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes fixed on her husband. Enguina went after him again and he twisted away from her, his jaw clenched as he switched the blade to his left hand. Arwen came to her feet when he took the next hit full on the blade, Mennev's sword angled to the right across his chest to protect that shoulder as Enguina's arms vibrated with the force of the impact. Her eyebrows rose at his gritted teeth as she grinned at him.

"I will take you yet, Aragorn!" She pushed him away yet again, forcing him on his guard as he backed away half-a-step; he was not left-handed, but she had never paid attention to it. She saw him glance over her left shoulder and his eyes widened slightly. _Do not get distracted!_ She lunged for him as he raised a hand up, even as she tried to score that winning prod that would make her the victor.

Everything after that happened in a blink. He blocked her knife, ducked under her guard and grabbed her shoulder, yanking her to the right and away from him. Her left hand caught his shoulder at the unexpected move, causing her to fall towards him. Startled, she tried to prevent it, felt herself tripping as she went even further into him felt a sharp pain in her hand, the hilt of the knife suddenly gone from her hand and felt the cold steel of another blade following her throat in her descent to the ground. There was suddenly a torrent of sound that breached her ears; she could make out nothing distinct and then a _THUNK!_ Her head knocked hard against the ground and she fell hard onto her side. Darkness swam across her vision, and she was so dazed she could barely think.

At the same moment, Arwen had darted forward, followed closely by Legolas, Gimli, and Thranduil. Three seconds before Enguina lost her own knife, the roar had reached them as if from far away and they had all lunged forward, yelling at the top of their lungs in panic and terror. Aragorn, luckily, had seen the man before anyone else, and was able to react much more quickly than the five seconds it took them to reach her from the hedgerow. He brought his sword to bear and knocked the blade from Enguina's throat before she even touched the ground.

" _ **No!**_ " he shouted sharply. That brought the man's attention up and he raised the sword immediately from Enguina as her head knocked against the ground. A half-second later, there was another loud yell as Legolas's arms took the man down to the ground, knocking him back from Enguina. Aragorn got on his knees beside her, checking her throat.

" _ **Wait!**_ _You foolhardy, reckless son of an orc! That was Enguina!"_ Legolas snapped, leaping to his feet. " _What the hell do you think you are doing?"_

"Is she all right?" asked Arwen, leaning over Aragorn and looking worried.

"I think so, but she is out cold."

"What're ya, blind lad?"

"What the _hell_ was she doing fighting—"

"They were _sparring_ , Éomer! It is not as though you have never seen people spar before!"

"I thought she was trying to kill him! I thought he was under attack! I did not mean to—"

"You could have killed her!"

"Aragorn was under attack from a single she-elf? Come on, Éomer, that'd be ridiculous!"

"What the devil happened? Who _are_ you?" demanded Thranduil, pushing Éomer back a bit from Enguina's side so that Legolas could kneel beside her.

"I am King Éomer of Rohan," Éomer introduced himself, sheathing his sword. "You must be King Thranduil, Legolas's father."

"That I am."

"I am so grievously sorry; I thought the King was in danger."

"Is she all right?" Legolas asked Aragorn, touching her face. He nodded.

"She hit her head, but I think once she wakes up she will be all right."

Faramir shoved Éomer. "You are such a dolt! Wait until Éowyn hears what you _did_ —"

"Eru, do not tell _her_ , Faramir! You are supposed to be on my side, brother!"

"How could anyone be on your side when you act so stupidly!" he cried. "You _could_ have killed her." He repeated Legolas's words from earlier.

"She is very lucky that Aragorn reacts quickly," added Thranduil softly.

"Faramir, go and fetch some water before you start hitting someone," Arwen said wryly, and the man immediately turned and headed for the Fountain to wet a cloth. "Aragorn—"

"Yes," the man replied, already knowing what she was thinking. "Legolas, take her over there to rest by the tree." By the time they reached it, Faramir had come back with some water. It only took a few minutes to know that Enguina's head appeared to be fine aside from a bubble appearing on the back of her skull.

* * *

Before she knew it, Enguina felt something hard against her back, something cold against her neck, and a warm hand in hers. She squeezed the something warm in her hand and it squeezed back. "Enguina?" It was Arwen's voice, and she sounded worried. Enguina did not open her eyes yet as the searing pain lancing across her head was terrible. She could hear voices all around her.

"I cannot believe you, Éomer! I do not know whether I should hug you in greeting or beat you with my fists! Of all the _mad_ —" That was Legolas.

"You realize you nearly slayed the bride?" That was Aragorn, a definite chuckle in his voice now that everything was mostly all right.

"Are you all right, Enguina?" Arwen again.

"I am _so_ grievously sorry!" She had never heard that voice before—deep, a different accent that told of a different land.

"I still cannot believe it! Even if you thought Aragorn in danger, you nearly _killed_ her!" Legolas whispered aggressively.

"What is going on?" Enguina muttered, trying to quiet their loud voices in her ears. Arwen replaced the cloth on her head with a colder one; it felt refreshing and good.

"How is your head, sweet one? You hit it very hard," she asked.

"It hurts," she replied softly.

"I did not know _she_ was Enguina!" she heard a voice cry, that same strange one.

"You daft fool," laughed Faramir, "I _told_ you they were in the garden! Who did you _think_ it would be?"

"Gentlemen," Arwen said a bit loudly to overcome their speech, "she has returned to us." She looked down into Enguina's face and the elf opened her eyes to see Arwen and Legolas, and felt Legolas's hand in her own.

"I heard Aragorn; is he all right?"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "She asks about _you_ ," he said aside to Aragorn.

"He is fine," Arwen answered. "You, on the other hand—"

"How long was I out?" she asked, blinking slowly.

"A few minutes," Thranduil replied from somewhere off to her left. She cursed under her breath at the pain firing through her head, and there was some laughter at her language.

"That's the way, lass!" Gimli laughed, cracking up.

"You really must have hit it hard," chuckled Legolas. "Watch your mouth, love."

"Close _your_ mouth," Enguina grumbled. "If your head ached like this, you would be cursing as well." She lifted her head and rested her hand against the back of it. "What happened anyway?"

"Ilúvatar and the Valar and all of _heaven_ forgive me!" she heard that very different voice cry and she opened her eyes to see a fair-haired man standing over Legolas's shoulder. He was wearing a red tunic…he was quite handsome and looked…well, rather ashamed of himself. "I am so _grievously_ sorry, my Lady!"

"Éomer, my _brilliant_ brother by marriage," Faramir began, "thought you were attacking the King. Therefore, he attacked you—"

"Without thinking," added Legolas, giving Éomer a dirty look.

"And I feel absolutely terrible about it," Éomer said, still looking ashamed.

"Please, do not trouble yourself," Enguina said, but the man got down on one knee and took her hand.

"How are you feeling, my Lady? Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?" he asked, but his worried expression was too much for her. There was three seconds of silence before she burst into giggles.

"Oh, _who_ are you? You are so handsome and such a gentleman!" she exclaimed, still laughing, and Arwen laughed as well. Legolas shook his head.

"I think you hit your head a bit _too_ hard, Guin."

"Enguina, meet Éomer Éadig, Éowyn's brother and Lord of the Riddermark, King of Rohan," introduced Aragorn as he settled a hand on Éomer's shoulder.

"Who is so _dreadfully_ sorry," Éomer added, and Enguina laughed again.

"I will be well! It was not your fault."

"Indeed, I think it may have been," stated Thranduil, crossing his arms.

"The Elf-King is correct," Éomer repeated. "I have no excuse."

"What would you have me say?" Enguina asked, looking amused. "Shall I declare you a punishment? No, you are Legolas's friend and are here for a happy occasion. Consider yourself forgiven, but take care where you swing your sword, my Lord!"

"Yes, you _oaf_ ," said Faramir, giving him a shove.

"Please, let me make it up to you—"

"Apologize no more," she laughed. "You are forgiven, Lord Éomer." She smiled at him as he released her hand and held the side of her head. "I really will be fine."

Éomer could not help but smile then. "I like her already," he said, and Legolas shoved him as well.

"Only because you begged her forgiveness and she forgave you, unlike Lothíriel would have." He leaned in close to Enguina and she could still see the worry in his eyes. "Are you certain you are well? I could knock him around a bit, if you desire."

"As much as I would enjoy a show of your strength and masculinity tussling about in the grass," she said with a grin, "and as much as I think you would both enjoy it—"

"Yes," Éomer jumped in, giving Legolas a bit of a shove back, "it has been too long since I hit someone."

"Perhaps some other time," she finished. "My head is hurting something fierce."

"You should lie down and rest," Aragorn said softly.

"I will," she sighed, looking at Éomer. "You have traveled far, Éomer; Legolas and I are pleased you were able to come, and Éowyn will be delighted you are here. She was asking only yesterday after you and when you would arrive. Was it a safe journey?"

"Indeed," he replied. "Faramir brought me here first, so I have not seen to Éowyn yet, though I will be glad to see my sister. I dropped Firefoot at the stable and Brego would not silence himself. They were as old friends!" He smiled at her. "But I think, if I may be so bold, Lady, that you should lie down as Aragorn said. We will have time to get to know one another later."

"Here's a thought," said Gimli. "How about Legolas takes Enguina to rest, you visit with Éowyn, and then we can all meet for—"

"A drink!" laughed Faramir.

"Yes, that is exactly what we were planning, Master Dwarf," said Éomer with a grin.

"And dinner in the Great Hall tonight, I think," added Faramir. "It might be a bit too close for comfort at the King's House."

Arwen nodded. "I will head over to the Tower and make sure there will be something planned."

"Excellent," Éomer said. He winked at Enguina. "By that time, you will be as right as rain, my Lady."

She smiled at him. "Enguina, please."

Éomer dipped his head and smiled. "Enguina, it is a pleasure to meet you."


	40. Chapter 40

Arwen had taken care of everything to plan the evening meal, and was thrilled that Éomer was here. He was a good, solid man, and she knew that Éowyn would also be feeling better now that he had arrived to cheer her. Legolas was supposed to leave Enguina in the guesthouse and then the men were all gathering at _The Boar's Head_ for drinks. She personally thought it was nice to have them altogether, and to give them time to be alone was a great idea. Everyone knew the dinner time, so they would be there. Enguina and Éowyn were resting and all of the men, including Thranduil, were at the tavern. Arwen was very glad that Enguina was taking it easy for the afternoon.

She was personally in the process of cutting apples to bake for a pie. It was a moment when she could stop and catch her breath, take time to reflect on everything that had been happening in the whirlwind that had been the past few months. It was nice to be alone to think, but in the next instant she was reminded of a time when Aragorn had been standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders and trying to steal apples out of the pie. The memory warmed her from head to toe, and then she shook her head with a smile.

"Make up your mind, Arwen," she chided herself. "One moment you are content, the next you are thinking about how quickly you can get Aragorn here."

There was a sudden banging on the door and the sound of Enguina crying out her name. Startled and confused when the elf was supposed to be resting, Arwen dropped her knife onto the table and dove for the threshold. As soon as the door was open, Enguina practically fell into her arms, crying, nearly hysterical.

A moment of sheer panic flew through her as she stumbled backwards into the House, taking Enguina with her. "Enguina?" she cried as she staggered back, holding her arms tightly around the older elf. "Enguina, what the _hell_ —"

" _It is horrible_! _Horrible!_ " she sobbed, catching Arwen's dress in her hands as she cried into her shoulder. Arwen noticed that Enguina was wearing a dark cloak, which was completely unlike her.

" _Enguina_ …shhh…calm down, calm down. What is the matter? What happened?"

"It is so _awful…_ " she sobbed, but Arwen could tell she was trying to get a hold of herself.

"Tell me, tell me what happened," she whispered, touching her lips against Enguina's hair. "Come on now, calm down and tell me what happened."

"I…I tried to…I…" Enguina swallowed hard, gasped for breath, and then let it out slowly. She raised her head to look at Arwen, tears staining her cheeks, her face red from crying…or was it something else? Arwen gazed at her confused. "Legolas told me of a tradition when we were walking this morning; he said it was something the brides of the Greenwood would do, that his mother had told him about it, so I thought that I should—" She lost herself to tears again and Arwen grew even more concerned.

"Enguina, you must take control of yourself so you can explain to me what happened! I am so worried about you. What is this _tradition_ Legolas told you of? I have never heard of such a thing."

"I was to bathe in a concoction of different herbs and fruits and things that Legolas said would build our marriage, make us stronger, give us love—it was a tradition! An innocent tradition!" she cried, more tears spilling down her face. "And now…and now…" She undid her cloak and let it fall away, leaving her clad in a tunic and leggings that did _nothing_ to hide the angry, red blotches that had spread out and were covering her skin. In horror, Arwen stared, and she had to assume they were everywhere based on how Enguina was uncomfortably standing in her kitchen. Her arms were scratched, even bleeding in some places because of how badly she was itching her skin.

Enguina looked to her, eyes full of tears. "What am I going to do?" she begged. "It is _unbearable_! I am so itchy everywhere and they are so _ugly_ and—" She dropped her face into her hands and began to cry again, but became distracted by scratching her nails against her scalp.

 _That will not do_. Arwen reached out and took Enguina's hands, holding them tight. "First, you are _not_ going to scratch them anymore. Just _look_ at what you have done to your arms!"

"I _know_ but I cannot _stop_!" she cried out, trying to yank her hands from Arwen's so she could scratch at her body again. " _God_ , Arwen…it is _unbelievable_!"

It took her a split second to remember what she needed to do. Arwen held onto her hands tightly and began towing her into the other room. "You are going to get undressed _right now_ and get in the bath. In your haste to perform a tradition, I fear you may have forgotten that you are very sensitive to certain things."

Enguina's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh! Ilúvatar! The _strawberries!_ "

"You put _strawberries_ in the—you are _such_ a _fool!_ "

"I was trying to uphold the traditions of Eryn Lasgalen!" Enguina said when Arwen released her in the bath and she began undoing her dress, her hands shaking because she was so upset. Arwen reached over and began running water into the tub and lighting the coals to heat it. "I just wanted to make Legolas happy; I just wanted to honor his mother's memory!"

"Tradition my _ass_ ," muttered Arwen, knocking her hands away. "Let me do that before you hurt yourself." Enguina was too distracted to hear what she had said.

"Arwen, _please_ …this is _unbearable_ ," she groaned, beginning to scratch her hands again.

"I said to _stop_ that," Arwen told her exasperatedly. "Distract yourself and tell me what else was in this bath you took."

"Mushrooms, dirt, birch leaves, dandelion weeds—"

"You are very sensitive to _those_ too!" she cried as Enguina stepped out of the dress. "Oh, Enguina, what were you _thinking_!" She lowered her head into her hands as Arwen stared at her bright red and irritated skin that seemed to be swelling right in front of her. Enguina had not been lying, she had _literally_ bathed in the stuff. "Ugh, just do not scratch; _please_ do not scratch! I will be back in a few seconds."

Arwen was true to her word and came back to shut off the water and dumped some sort of mixture into it. It smelled bread-like and looked absolutely awful, as though someone had coated the water with a mud-like consistency. Enguina covered her mouth and Arwen began stirring the water with one hand as she dumped more of the stuff in.

"I do not even want to _know_ what that is," Enguina moaned, beginning to scratch her stomach with one hand and her arm with the other.

" _Stop_ scratching," Arwen growled, and then stepped back and pointed. "Get in."

"What?" she asked, horrified. "No!"

"You just came from a bath that had mud and _mushrooms_ in it and you are refusing to get in _this_?" Arwen asked incredulously. " _Get in right this instant_!"

Enguina obeyed, climbing into their tub, and the effect was almost immediate. "Oooo…"

"These are oats taken out of the husk," Arwen said, taking Enguina's hair in one hand. "It will calm the itching. In the meantime, tilt your head back so I can spread it on your scalp, and tell me what else was in that bath you took." Enguina obeyed this time without question.

"Lavender, coriander, sage… _oh Heaven, Arwen this feels so good_ …"

Arwen actually smiled though Enguina could not see it. "And _you_ did not wish to get in it."

"I take it back," she groaned, rubbing the mixture up to her shoulders and neck as Arwen's fingers combed the mealy mixture through her hair and massaged it into her scalp. "I will _never_ disagree with you again."

Arwen snorted. "What else?"

"Honey…and crunched up ladybugs…and the strawberries." _LADYBUGS!?_ Arwen stared at Enguina as though she had four heads and shuddered. Legolas was going to get a piece of her mind _tonight_ at dinner. "My face is still burning," Enguina said softly, "and I feel as though there are huge bumps on my arms and chest."

"There are," Arwen sighed. "After you have finished here, I need to go to the Houses and see if there is something they can give you for them. The oats will soothe, but they will not take care of the bumps."

"Will they be gone by dinner? I cannot go to—"

"It would be best to _avoid_ dinner tonight, I think," she said as she took a handful of the stuff and rubbed it gently along Enguina's ears and face. "Ilúvatar bless you, you really did put this everywhere, did you not? At least you did not swallow any."

"What would have happened if I had?"

"With how bad this reaction is, Enguina, you could have stopped _breathing_ had you eaten any."

She was silent for a moment. "I am sorry I was so foolish. I just wanted to honor Legolas's mother's memory. When he said that it was tradition, I thought that perhaps if she were here she might have told me about it before I wed her son."

Arwen bit her lip before she cursed something awful as Enguina could not see her. _Oh, Legolas, you_ _ **rat**_. "Yes, you were foolish. By Elbereth, do not do something like this again, or at least _think_ before you do. You were so eager to please him that you did not even think."

"I promise I will," she whispered back. "The strawberries were for children and good fortune in childbirth, so I had to put lots of them in." She appeared embarrassed and Arwen flinched, knowing very well that of _course_ Enguina would do it. The example of herself and her situation was too _glaring_. Enguina looked over at her with tears in her eyes. "Do you think I will still have them for the wedding? That would be _awful_."

Arwen laid a hand against her cheek and shook her head. "I think the Healers will have something that will make them fade, but you _cannot_ scratch them." She shook off her hands from the oats and stood. "You stay right there _at least_ until I get back from the Houses. Then you are going straight home to bed." She shook her head as Enguina laid her head on the side of the tub. "You have had one hell of a day, Enguina. And what in the world were you doing anyway? You were supposed to be resting!"

"I was, but then I could not sleep and I thought I would get this done and…oh, it all went wrong from there…and my head is starting to hurt something awful."

"That is from all the crying you were doing when you arrived," Arwen said gently, sighing. "Yes, you are definitely going home to bed. I will send _Legolas_ with a plate for you."

Enguina opened one eye and looked at her. "You are... _angry_ with him?"

"A bit."

"He could not have known that I would have a reaction, Arwen," she said reasonably, closing her eyes again. "It was not Legolas's fault that the tradition called for these things."

Arwen was silent for a moment, fuming at Enguina's defense of him, but unable to say that the tradition was a lie, unable to irritate Enguina when she already said her head was aching. "Stay in the meal, please. I will be back shortly; then we will get you cleaned up and home."

"Thank you," she replied, catching her hand before she turned from the tub. "Thank goodness you knew what to do."

"Rest your head, and do _not_ fall asleep in there," Arwen chided her as she wiped her hands on a clean towel. She heard Enguina's non-committal response and smiled to herself as she left the bedroom and headed for the door.

* * *

Raucous laughter sounded across the _Boar's Head_ as the six friends sat gathered around a corner table, pints of ale in front of them. They were having an excellent time together, even though they knew it was nearly time to head for the Tower and dinner and that their ladies would be waiting for them to arrive.

Éomer turned half-way around towards the bar. "Gelyle!" he hollered. "Get us another round! The dwarf is still thirsty!"

"Hey!" cheered Gimli and Faramir, raising their mugs. Aragorn threw back the rest of the pint he had been drinking, chuckled at the two of them, and set it down hard on the table.

"Another!" laughed Legolas with a huge grin, enjoying the sight of his friends celebrating.

"There is no _way_ I am having another," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "Arwen will _kill_ me if I come home like a drunkard. Once was enough, thank you."

"Ah, what is a little ale between friends?" hollered Éomer, and Gimli cheered again, raising his mug and spilling ale on the table in the process.

Thranduil shook his head. " _Dwarves._ "

Legolas laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come now, Adar, Gimli is the life of every party."

"You know what, Éomer?" began Faramir with a straight face. "You are a _terrible_ influence. We have to be home in an hour," he said, beginning to laugh as he pointed and the barkeep deposited another round of mugs on the table, "and it is the middle of the day and we are going to be _sloshed_ before supper!"

"Ale all around!" Éomer yelled, and he raised his glass. "To celebrate the birth of Elfwine!"

"Elfwine!" they all called and drank, Aragorn shaking his head as if there was nothing for it before he, too, took a sip.

"To the _new_ little one!" called Gimli. "The son or daughter of Faramir!"

"To children in general!" laughed Faramir.

"To Legolas!" yelled Éomer, holding out his mug to him, and Legolas grinned. "May he be ever in love with his bride to be, may he discover the _glories_ of marriage _and_ the enjoyment of having the woman one loves in the same bed as himself at night!" Faramir cracked up laughing as Legolas blushed.

"Éomer—"

"And may he be blessed with much desire for…his _wife_ —"

"Hoho!" cheered Gimli and Legolas covered his face with his hand.

" _Éomer—_ " he groaned.

"—and for children! For that is where a man's heart truly lies—in family."

"Thank you," the elf said sincerely. Éomer winked at him.

"To Legolas." They all echoed, toasted, and drank.

"Wait," laughed Éomer, reaching across the table and grabbing Aragorn's arm. "We did not toast to your little one!"

"Um, no, Éomer, that is—" Aragorn began, holding up a hand.

"To the King's little one!" he laughed and there was an awkward second where no one knew what to do. Thranduil jumped in, leaning across the table and clinking his mug against Éomer's.

"Indeed!" he said, and the rest of them echoed even as Legolas glanced at Aragorn and the man shook his head. Thranduil shrugged. _Why spoil the mood at the moment?_

"What else can we toast to?" Éomer asked, looking at them all.

"I think you might want to stop there, friend," laughed Thranduil, and he set a hand on Éomer's shoulder. "This toasting is getting a bit out of hand."

"You know, Legolas," Faramir said, "we need to have a party for you some night before the wedding to celebrate your last night of being, well, unattached!"

"Is this not enough?" he asked spreading a hand. "We are all here, together, enjoying ourselves…"

"No, no, no," Éomer disagreed. "These things have to be done properly, Legolas. How many days have we got before the blessed event?"

Thranduil smiled—Éomer was nearly as drunk as Gimli. "Seven."

"Well, I say that we need to have this celebration in six."

"What is the purpose of it again?" asked Legolas, confused.

"Tell you wild stories, drink ale, give you advice, you know! All the _good_ stuff!" Éomer laughed, waggling his eyebrows at him.

" _Definitely_ not the night before the wedding," Legolas refused easily. "I forbid it."

"Whoa, all right!" laughed Faramir. "How about three days from now? We will come here and celebrate and tell Legolas all the stories we want."

"Assuming the women are fine with it," Aragorn said, "which they may not be if we miss dinner entirely tonight." Éomer shoved his shoulder.

"We will make _sure_ the wives are fine with it!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Advice, hmm?"

"Yes, lots and _lots_ of advice, Legolas," said Faramir with a grin.

"Am I invited to this celebration?" laughed Gimli, leaning forward on the table and spilling more ale on the table.

"If you have recovered by then!" teased Éomer.

"Perhaps we _should_ be heading for the Tower," suggested Thranduil. "Dinner is waiting and—"

Suddenly, Gimli knocked over the candle in the center of their table and it lit up the table top like a bonfire, flames licking the ceiling. Éomer, Faramir, and Legolas leapt back shouting, ale spilling everywhere from their pints. Gimli roared, flying to his feet as the end of his beard caught on fire, flames shooting towards his face.

" _Eru_!" yelped Éomer. He grabbed his mug.

" _No, Éomer_!" cried Aragorn, trying to snatch it from his hand, but it was too late. The ale splashed Gimli's beard and the flames shot out as though the dwarf was breathing fire. Gimli hollered in terror and Éomer yelled, jumping backwards and knocking Faramir and Legolas onto the ground. Other patrons in the tavern were screaming and yelling in alarm.

Thranduil spun around from the nearest table and flung a huge pitcher of water into the dwarf's face. "Gelyle, more water!" he called towards the bar, but at least the fire on the dwarf's face was out. Aragorn pulled Gimli back from the table, Faramir and Legolas got to their feet, and the six of them stood staring around at the bonfire burning in the alcohol on the table. They looked at each other as Gimli felt what was left of his terribly singed beard.

"Gimli, are you all right?" asked Legolas, reaching for him.

"Always knew that shoulda been a bit shorter!" Gimli yelled and then raised his mug. "Hey!" Everyone in the tavern raised their glasses and yelled as well.

The friends began to chuckle and then to laugh as Aragorn clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. Soon, they were all doubled over as Gelyle put the rest of the fire out, holding onto each other as they laughed hilariously, struggling to even stand upright.

"Everything all right, Master Gimli?" the barkeep asked, chuckling himself. "You six aren't going to be allowed in here anymore if you're gonna set the place on fire!"

"One more round, Gelyle," laughed Éomer. "Just one, and then we'll be on our way, but make it for the whole place!" A cheer went up from the tavern.

"And put it _and_ the table on the King's score for the afternoon!" shouted Faramir.

The second cheer was even louder, and Éomer thumped his mug on the burnt table.

 _A mug of beer in my hand, me boys!_

 _And a celebratory grin!_

 _A rousing song to strike a dance_

 _And a fair maid I can spin!_

"Oh _god_ , Éomer, don't!" laughed Gimli. But Éomer continued as the fiddler in the corner struck up the tune on his instrument. In the meantime, everyone around them began thumping to the rhythm of the song as Gelyle began filling up drinks, and one by one everyone in the tavern had joined in the old and well-known song:

 _A mug of beer in my hand, me boys!_

 _A shout of gladness ring!_

 _Play a tune on the fiddle and celebrate_

 _For all now join and sing:_

 _Hey! Ho! A jolly song!_

 _A song of celebration!_

 _Hey Ho sing a song of the heart!_

 _You've worked hard, me boys!_

 _Won victory, me boys!_

 _Shout HEY and dance and sing…_

 _And DRINK 'till the morning!_

* * *

Arwen and Éowyn sat with Annî at the wooden table in an adjoining room within the first level of the White Tower. The table was set and the food set out, waiting for those who were present to be eating it. At the moment, _they_ were waiting. It was fairly quiet, except every few moments when Annî would randomly ask:

"Where is Daddy?" And Éowyn would respond with:

"I am sure he is on his way, dear."

After the fifth time, Éowyn turned towards Arwen while Annî played with her potatoes and fairly snarled, "You know, it would be _awfully_ nice of them to show up. I mean, look at all this food gone to waste! And we are sitting here _waiting_ for them when we could be eating and—"

"Éowyn, Éowyn," Arwen said soothingly. "Do not get yourself riled up. We knew they were going for a drink; I am sure they forgot the time. You know how Gimli and Éomer are when they are together—"

" _And_ Faramir! And I gave him a strict warning this afternoon!"

Arwen smiled. "And when has that ever mattered?"

"Did you not say the same to Aragorn?"

She sighed. "No, I assumed they were going out to spend time together. They have not all been together in several years and I thought that…it would not be a terrible thing if they enjoyed one another's company."

Éowyn sighed. "Why do you have to be so reasonable? You make me look like a bear."

"Stop that," she said. "Perhaps it is because I am an elf, though one would think that you would understand the needs of men more than I, having known your brother for years."

She snorted. "My _brother_. You know what? I would not be surprised if Faramir and Éomer were passed out at the house _right_ now." Her eyes narrowed. "I will _kill_ them when we get home."

Arwen laughed softly. "Oh, Éowyn."

"The maids worked hard on this meal, to prepare it for so many!" she exclaimed. "And I think it is simply—"

"Rude?" asked Thranduil from the doorway as he entered. Both of their heads shot up. "You must have been deep in conversation if you did not hear us coming."

Éowyn stood and crossed her arms. "Where have you been?"

"Daddy!" yelled Annî, trying to see behind Thranduil.

"I am sorry, Andúnêiel," Thranduil said as he came closer and Legolas entered behind him. "My Lady, you should be seated and—"

"Do not _dare_ say resting, Thranduil," she said a bit waspishly. "I have been sitting here for the past twenty minutes. Where is my husband?"

"At home, Éowyn," Aragorn said as he walked in behind Legolas. "We are late."

Her eyebrows rose in irritation. "A bit. And where is my brother? Sleeping it off as well?"

Arwen wrinkled her nose as Aragorn drew closer and he smiled apologetically. "Along with the dwarf."

"Well, at least you, it seems, have _some_ self-control." Éowyn frowned and sat down. "Honestly, what is wrong with them?"

"You cannot blame them, Éowyn," added Legolas. "There was much to celebrate, you know."

"Did you set fire to something?" Arwen asked Aragorn as he took a seat and Thranduil chuckled. "That is not pipe-weed I smell."

Legolas snorted. "Gimli. We ignited Gimli."

" _What?_ " asked Éowyn.

"Well, to be truthful," Thranduil added, holding up a hand and resting one on Legolas's shoulder, "Gimli set _himself_ on fire." Annî giggled.

" _That_ is true," Legolas agreed.

"I thought Elves did not feel the effects of alcohol," Éowyn asked suspiciously.

"Actually, Éomer made it _much_ worse and Thranduil was the only one with the presence of mind to put it out, as Legolas and Faramir were on the floor at the time," Aragorn admitted.

Éowyn laid her head in her hands. "I am _not_ hearing this."

"Just eat your meal and forget we said anything," Aragorn said, waving it off.

"Did you get into any fights?" she asked, her head still in her hands. "Are you lying to me about them being at the house and they are really in the stocks? I know how Éomer can be sometimes—"

"Everything was fine. They simply had too much to drink," Legolas stated, reaching over for some bread. "We did enjoy ourselves, but we do apologize for being late. Aragorn _did_ try to tell us, if that makes you feel better, Arwen."

Arwen gave him a wry smile in return. "I believe it does."

"Éomer and Faramir were probably buying everyone another round," groaned Éowyn. "Ugh… _why_ did I marry him?"

"Because you love him," said Aragorn, "and Éomer…well…you cannot choose your family."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"I like him," said Thranduil thoughtfully, filling his plate. "He is amusing."

Legolas looked about and tilted his head. "Where is—"

" _Legolas_ ," Arwen said a bit sharply, and the elf looked at her immediately, as did everyone else.

"What is the matter?"

"What sort of _nonsense_ did you feed Enguina this morning about the traditions of Greenwood?"

"I was just going to ask you where she was," he asked innocently. "I have no idea—"

"Do not play _coy_ with me."

"What in the world did you do?" asked Thranduil, studying Arwen's irritated face.

"Clearly something she did not like," he muttered under his breath. Then he grinned at her. "Did she really do it? Because if she did, she is _the most gullible_ —"

"Oh no," groaned Aragorn, leaning his chin on his hand. "You did _not_ play a trick on her."

"It was an excellent one, too," he admitted, grinning from ear to ear. "I told her—"

"I _know_ what you told her," Arwen interrupted, "and it might have been funny, too, if she had not become red, swollen, and almost _ill_ because of it."

Legolas dropped his fork. "What?"

"Enguina is severely sensitive to strawberries _and_ dandelion weed."

His mouth fell open. "But w-why would she—"

"So willing to please," Arwen sighed. "She did not _think_. She was only thinking about pleasing you. She never thought about what would happen; in fact, she forgot about her sensitivity to those things completely."

"Oh, Legolas," sighed Éowyn, shaking her head and cleaning off Annî's hands from the potatoes she was digging into on her plate.

"You are so very fortunate that she did not ingest any of it; she would have been _terribly_ ill."

He got to his feet. "I must go to her immediately."

"She is all right at the moment," Arwen said, trying to temper his clear distress. Even though she was still irritated with him, she saw no reason to make him over-anxious. "She is resting, but you should certainly go to her, and you should certainly apologize."

"I will," he said, looking extremely guilty.

"You are going right now?" asked Thranduil.

"I caused this."

"You might want to take dinner for both of you," Arwen said. "I promised her you would take her a plate. And Legolas, I would _not_ mention that there _is_ no such tradition."

He blushed and looked very guilty, and his father looked up. "What in the world _did_ you tell her, boy?"

His son sighed as he began filling a plate with some food. "I told her there was a ritual that females would perform before their wedding and it included some of the… _items_ that she was clearly sensitive to." He groaned. "I never meant for her to do something so foolish! I thought it would be hilarious."

"A ritual?" asked Éowyn, intrigued. "What sort of ritual?"

"She had to take a bath in certain items," he stated. "Obviously, she fell for it. Please, do not let this leave this room. If Faramir or Éomer hear about it, I will never hear the end of it."

"This _is_ Enguina," Aragorn sighed. "Foolish is part of her name."

Thranduil smiled. "It was a clever plot, but you should have assumed it would come back to haunt you. Those things usually do."

Legolas nodded, his head low. Aragorn sighed and rested his forehead on his clasped hands. "Dear Father, bless these two so that we might live in _harmony_ and _peace_."

"Come now, Aragorn," Legolas complained. "If you had time before your wedding, you would not have played a trick or two on Arwen?"

"I doubt it very highly."

"It has been quite clear to me that she has been plotting with others, especially you and Gimli," Legolas accused Éowyn. The woman covered her heart.

"What? _Me?_ I have no idea what you are talking about."

He shook his head as he finished filling the plate he was taking. "Do not _lie_ , Éowyn; it does not become you at all. I know that is what you were doing the day Faramir and I were attacked. There is something dreadful that she is going to do to trick me and you are both in on it." He sighed. "It is almost certain that she has all of you in on something or another."

"This is too much strain for my head right now," muttered Aragorn and Annî patted his arm.

"It's fine, Tirion," she said. "You are good." Aragorn could not help but smile.

"It serves you right," Éowyn pointed out. Then she looked back to Legolas. "And it would serve _you_ right, too, after what you did to her."

"I only _did_ it because I knew _she_ was planning something!" he cried. Then he shook his head. "Forget I said anything." He turned to his father. "Adar, would you walk out with me?" he asked. "I have…something I want to say." Thranduil nodded and stood as Legolas turned to them. "I wish you all a good evening. Éowyn, please thank Éomer again for today, will you?"

"He will not be awake," she sighed. "You can tell him in the morning."

"Will we see you for breakfast?" asked Arwen.

"Possibly, though I might spend the day trying to make up with Enguina."

* * *

Thranduil and Legolas walked out the door together and just outside in the throne room Legolas stopped and turned to him. "Adar…I want to apologize for my behavior last evening."

"You do not need to apologize, Legolas," Thranduil said softly. "It was I who—"

"No," he said firmly, "that will not do. I will not have you covering up my apology with your own. Apologize if you wish, but I will say what I must say."

Thranduil stared at him a moment and then bowed his head. "Then speak, my son."

"I should never have been so angry with you. One of my greatest faults is my temper; I sometimes still struggle to control it. Because of that, I hurt you. I should _not_ have brought mother into the conversation." Thranduil flinched and looked away, but Legolas set his hand on his father's shoulder. "I do it even now when I am trying to seek your forgiveness. I know that was unfair of me and it was wrong… _very_ wrong. I…should have been more patient. Moreover, I know the pain it causes you when I mention her, and I was wrong."

"I am sorry for what I said to you," Thranduil said softly. "Even if it _had_ been my place to question you, it was done in a way to accuse you…and that was not what I meant to do. In any way, it was not my place."

"When I am ten thousand years old," Legolas said, looking into his father's face, "you will _still_ be my father. If you did not question me, who would? I should be grateful, that you still care about who I am, what I become, the choices I make; instead, I have been angry and resentful. I am sorry." He sighed. "When I have my own children, I know I will understand, though now I struggle."

"You are forgiven for your words," Thranduil replied. "I am sorry that it has taken this long for us to apologize to one another."

"It was a long day." He looked at his father. "I will, however, respond as I should have when you asked me."

"You do not need to explain yourself," he said, shaking his head. "I have no right—"

"I have not taken Enguina to my bed," he interrupted softly. "I am still the man I always was. Her honor, her innocence, her love…these are the most important concerns in my life. I would never dishonor her; I love her too much."

Thranduil reached up and set his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I am glad to be reminded of that, to be reminded you are a man of great character, of virtue. I am sorry that I thought otherwise, even for a moment. My mind simply ran away with me. I should never have assumed wrongly of you."

"There are…some things that you do not understand," Legolas continued in the same, soft voice. "But I cannot explain them. The tale is not mine to tell, not mine to share. Shall it suffice to say that Enguina and I need to be together?"

"It is not necessary," Thranduil stated. "I should trust your judgment; I _do_ trust your judgment. Whatever you are doing, you must have a good reason."

"I do," he replied. "And I…" He away from his father's eyes and sighed. "One day, Adar...do you think we could…do you think we might ever talk about mother?"

Thranduil let out a long breath and crossed his hands slowly behind his back; still, Legolas could see even in his father's control, the pain that he hid in his heart. "I do not know, my boy," he murmured. "I wish I could give you a better answer; I know it is not the one you hoped for."

"No, but it is the one I expected. I wish you could trust me," he said sadly.

Thranduil shook his head. "It is no matter of trust, Legolas. It is a matter of ability— _mine_. I do not want you to ever know the pain I have felt. To tell you, to share it with you, would bring you great sadness. You are just beginning your life with Enguina; let your focus remain on her, not on the past. If Ilúvatar is good, you will never know this pain. I pray…I have been praying _ceaselessly_ and I will continue to pray, that you and Enguina will live forever together."

Legolas's face grew pale and he whispered, "If I ever lost her—"

"I _cannot_ , Legolas," Thranduil said a bit suddenly, taking a step back towards the dinner room. "Please…understand." His eyes pleaded with his son, begged him to let the subject go.

Legolas lifted his head and looked at his father, as if really seeing him for the first time in years. "I…think I do. Good night, Adar; until morning."

"Until morning." He turned and went back inside as Legolas headed through the throne room towards Enguina.

* * *

When Legolas entered the guesthouse, he went directly to where he figured Enguina would be. Assuming that she might not be asleep in her bed, he headed for the sitting room where he found her lying on the daybed there. She was looking at him when he came over and set the plate of food on his lap when he sat on the edge of the table across from her.

"A peace offering," he said softly, and she smiled when he reached over and dragged his fingers very gently along her cheek. He could see the red lumps along her collarbone and the guilt of what he had done increased a hundred-fold.

"Arwen got to you already, I see," she said a bit sleepily. "It was not your fault. It was my silliness that led to what happened. I was not thinking."

"I…could not have known about your sensitivities, but I wish I knew that before. I will never give you strawberries or run you through a field of dandelions. I am so sorry."

"It is all right," she told him gently. "You never could have known, and it was fun to do…until the itching started."

He chuckled, unable to help himself. "By the look of you, we are going to have many, _many_ children."

"One for every bubble on my skin," she whispered, and he outright laughed. "I think I may have counted five and twenty."

"Well, we have forever," he told her. "I am sure we could make that work."

She smiled. "I am not very hungry at the moment, but if you are, you should eat. What time is it? It seems light out."

"Dinner," he said. "How is your head feeling?"

"It was pretty awful this afternoon," she said honestly. "At the moment, I feel better; just a bit tired. I think that is from the reaction. At least I am not scratching my skin all off at the moment."

"When Arwen told me, I could not help but feel terrible. I will say though…" he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead and she heard him deeply breathe in the scent of her hair, "you smell unbelievably good."

When he made to pull back, she slipped her hand around the back of his neck and tilted her face up so she could kiss him. It was long and sweet, and she did not want it to be over. In fact, she had a desire in her mind to pull him right down beside her…but she resisted. "Mmm," she muttered. She closed her eyes again and kissed him again and she felt him smile against her mouth.

"You _are_ tired," he whispered.

"How can you tell?" she murmured back against his lips.

"You usually do not let me kiss you this many times in succession," he continued, and she felt his hand drag down her arm to her shoulder, his fingers slipping beneath the sleeve of the tunic. The touch against her flesh set her on fire, goose pimples came out on her skin, and she trembled in his arms. A thrill of fear went through her…or was it something else?

"Hold…slow down," she whispered and released his neck so she could slide back from him. "Too far…too much, too fast."

"How do you know?" he asked softly and watched her swallow hard. "We were only kissing."

"No," she replied in the same soft tones. "You did not feel the difference?"

"I felt the difference in you," he replied, his other hand reaching to touch her face.

"Why can I not…" she began, frustrated, and then sighed. "Why can I not kiss you and feel nothing else? It makes me feel…as though I am doing something wrong."

He smiled, stroking her cheek with his fingers. "Because we are to be wed in seven days. Because I…have been looking at you a bit differently the last few days," he sighed honestly. "And because you are feeling differently."

"I…have more anxiety," she said softly. "And what do you mean you have been looking at me a bit differently? I have not _noticed_ you looking at me differently."

"I have tried not to be too obvious," he told her lightly. "In any event, I have a question for you." She tilted her head at him.

"You are changing the subject," she accused.

"I am indeed," he admitted. "I cannot possibly explain myself. Now, the question."

"It has nothing to do with kissing?" she asked and he chuckled.

"That depends…there _could_ be kissing."

"Mmm. What is it?"

"I feel very responsible for what happened to you today. I would like to make it up to you by taking you riding near the Anduin tomorrow."

She blinked and was quiet.

He frowned. "What are you thinking? I…hate not knowing what you are thinking, and it seems to me that you do not like my idea."

"I… _do_ like it. I only…" She slipped her fingers through his and held his hand. "Legolas, we will be as you say, six days away from being wed. Should we…should we tempt ourselves?"

"Tempt—? What can you mean?" he asked, giving her a small smile. "Are we not tempting ourselves already? Am I not spending every evening beside you in your bed?"

" _Legolas_ …"

"Nothing is going to happen, _moina_ ," he told her gently. "We are only going for a ride in the springtime, a few hours away from Minas Tirith before we return to the decorating and the entertaining and everything else we need to worry about. We can be in control of our behavior. At least… _I_ will be." His eyes sparkled with humor for a moment and she wondered if it were possible for him to be serious about their conversation.

She tilted her head at him and reached up to touch her shoulder. "Did you know that you were touching my skin? That you were sliding your hand beneath my tunic?" she asked him seriously. She was not chastising him for it; she was wondering if he had even known what he was doing.

"The tips of my fingers were touching the perfect skin of your shoulder. How could I not know?" he asked, his voice low and soft, still stroking his fingers along her face.

"You do not even have the decency to be embarrassed," she chided him.

He sighed. "Guin, I do not have any embarrassment because we did not do anything wrong. Nothing is _going_ to go wrong. Ride with me tomorrow."

She closed her eyes. "I do not know. I want to; I want to spend every waking moment with you but I…still feel that this is not the best idea right now. Perhaps surrounding ourselves with people is."

"Being alone would be a great idea," he said, kissing her fingers. "I do not need someone standing beside me to remind me of the lines we have drawn." He frowned at her. "Are you saying you would prefer I do not touch you?"

"Legolas…"

"Agree to come with me," he pressed and she laid her head back against the divan. It had begun aching again under the stress of their conversation.

"I am tired," she murmured, her eyes closed.

The silence told her more than he realized. She felt awful that she was hurting him, but how could she say yes to his request? Something was not right in the pit of her stomach. It was not the slight change in Legolas that bothered her, though she knew very well he felt the heaviness of the desire he held for her grow ever heavier as the wedding drew nearer. He _did_ desire her; should she not fear that desire? She felt that it should have frightened her, it should have made her more nervous. Instead, what she worried about was being completely inadequate, even panicking on their wedding night. Arwen could give her every encouragement known to Middle-Earth, but Enguina had no idea how she was going to get through that night…never mind how she was going to get through every day until then.

"I do not mean to hurt you," she said softly.

"Do you not trust me?" he asked. "Are you nervous about being alone with me?" She could hear the wounds she was creating in his heart even as he spoke the words.

"I _do_ trust you," she said, opening her eyes and laying her hand along the side of his cheek. "I do not trust _my_ response. It is not yours; it is _mine._ I wanted everything to be normal, but how can it be when _I_ am not normal?" She wondered this aloud, not intending him to reply. "Legolas, I am so frustrated by the feelings I have that I cannot…understand? Suppress? I do not know what to say."

He stroked her face. "You do not have to suppress them," he told her gently. "We love each other, Guin. We _should_ feel a certain amount of desire toward one another." He grinned at her. "At least I _hope_ you desire me even a quarter as much as I feel toward you."

She blushed. "I…do not think it would be appropriate for me to express that right now."

He laughed. "You need to stop worrying and just…let it be. Everything is going to be fine. You said you were tired…shall we get you to bed?"

"Mmm," she murmured, closing her eyes and rubbing her fingers along his cheek, "I do not think I have the energy to go over there."

"Perfect." Before she could say anything, he set the plate down on the table, stood, and slipped his hands underneath her. Scooping her into his arms and curving her into his chest, her head rested against him.

"You did not need to do that," she said into his tunic. "You are supposed to be eating."

"I will, once you are tucked in bed."

She smiled. "You are going to be such a wonderful father someday. You will tuck our children in every night, read them stories, and sing them songs…and I will adore you from a distance as they love you…"

"You… _did_ hit your head very hard, did you not, love?"

"I am perfectly serious."

He laid her down on the bed which had already been turned down, brought up the sheets, made sure her pillow was just so and she was comfortable, and then rested his hands on the bed on either side of her, leaning over her face.

"I know…and I love you for the image," he whispered, bending low to kiss her gently.

"I cannot wait until we are married," she said as he began to lean back. It made him pause a hair from her lips again. "I wish it was tomorrow. Can it be tomorrow?"

"The food is not even prepared, love," he said. "Everything is not yet ready."

"I wish we were married right now," she murmured, but he noticed her eyes were still closed. He nuzzled his nose against hers and pressed his lips several times against her cheeks, lips, chin—she felt his breath a bit lower on her throat, and felt a tingle that had _nothing_ to do with fear. " _Legolas_ …"

He pressed his lips to hers and immediately straightened. "Good night, my love," he said gently, and there was half-a-second where she wanted to grab him and pull him down beside her and beg him to touch her, to chase her fears away…but it was a fleeting desire, and fear followed it. She sighed.

"Good night, my Prince."

The endearment made him smile.


	41. Chapter 41

Author's Note: :O) If you are enjoying the story, great! The song in this chapter is "Not For A Moment (After All)" by Meredith Andrews and was not written by me or owned by me! Before this story ends, I promise a wedding! LOL

* * *

"I am going to catch you!"

"No, you are not!" Legolas laughed out loud. "I am the fastest there is!"

"You _watch_ me!"

The ride had been splendid; Brethil and Lómë were delighted to be out and about the Anduin again, eating fresh grass and romping in the plentiful sunshine. It had not taken the two of them long to begin a race and shortly thereafter Enguina and Legolas found the perfect place to stop and have their lunch. One of the many things Enguina loved about Legolas was that when he planned a day with her, he actually _planned_. It was so pleasant; he showered her with love and affection and made her feel as though she was the only one in the whole world who could make him feel this way. Perhaps she was, but if felt good to know it, to be told, to be shown. She was _so in love with him!_

She was gaining on him at the moment and she knew it. He had once again been teasing her, and then he had splashed _water_ on her from the river and that simply could _not_ be tolerated. When she caught him—and she _would_ catch him, it was only a matter of time—she was going to kill him.

She pounced, grabbed his shoulder and dragged him around and down with her to the ground, laying half on him to hold him down. Breathing hard, he stared at her as she grinned triumphantly down at him. "Ha."

"That was impressive."

"You are not as fast as you think you are."

"No," he disagreed, reaching up to stroke her face, "I am just as fast as I always have been. It is just that no one has been able to catch me before you." She smiled and closed her eyes as he explored her face with his fingertips.

"This is a first," she laughed. "You actually seem to be all right with the thought of me catching you." She raised her eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Well, we are now sitting still and I have my hands on your face, so that always helps," he teased. She sighed softly,

"That is nice." He studied her face, the way the sunlight reflected from her beautiful golden hair and how absolutely stunning she was, like a jewel…and she wanted _him_. Who was he that she should desire to be with _him_? He wondered if he was strange; he wondered if it was normal to enjoy the position he was in, to be pinned down by her, to be studying her this way.

" _By the Valar_ …" he whispered, " _you are so beautiful._ " He felt her skin heat up beneath his fingers, and he continued to slowly run his fingertips over her eyebrows and eyes, her lips and nose. "The way the sun strikes your skin, the way you move, the way you smile, the way your lips form the words you speak—"

" _Legolas_."

"The way you say my name. I am completely serious, Guin," he told her, beginning to draw her down towards him. The grass was soft and comfortable, and even though she was only half-lying in it and half-lying on him, she knew how good it would feel against her bare skin. It would be too easy to lie down right beside him, right there, right now. She knew it was becoming too serious; they had been teasing each other only seconds ago…and then he _had_ to go and say something serious… "I am the most fortunate man in the world," he whispered, letting his hands drift back towards her ears. "You are an angel and you love _me_? And you have accepted me, to marry me…to love _me_ and _only_ me, forever—"

"Oh, Legolas," she whispered, and she let him draw her face to his as she braced her hands against his chest, leaning heavily on him as he brought her lips to his in a loving kiss. His fingers still keeping her near, tracing her face, exploring her skin, and then allowing them to roam back through her hair when she stayed near his lips on her own accord. He planted kisses along her jaw, and then beneath her chin. They were gentle, loving kisses, and he came back to her mouth after three or four. "That…tickles…"

"Good to know," he murmured, sowing more kisses, even as she attempted to turn her head away. His pursuit was relentless, raining kisses on her nose, her chin, her cheekbones, and jawline…whatever was within his reach. "Do you have any other secrets left, my love?"

"A girl…should keep…a few…" She found herself breathless, unable to even think about what she was saying to him. Should she feel this way? Was this normal? She tried desperately to think about Arwen's words from their trip to the river, but her mind was blank except for the pleasure of his mouth. Composure…what was _that?_ Did she have any? He kissed her eyelids, and she felt his hands slip past her hairline and drag slowly down her back.

He felt her intake of air beside his ear, a gasp of pleasure when he pressed his lips directly below her ear, just behind her jawline. To Legolas, it was a final warning; a sound of control that was lost, a sound of the desire within both of them that she had no way or want to fight. He heard it, and for a full three seconds lost his mind to delight in the fact that _he_ was the one who was bringing her bliss. His hands held her more tightly against him, pushing into her back, and pressing her into his chest. He was so wrapped up in every bit of her that he struggled to return himself to the real world. His lips found the sensitive skin beneath her ear again, and this time, she shuddered against him, almost completely unaware of her own reaction to his touch. He heard nothing but her heart one moment, thudding against his chest, and in the next there was nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears.

And that was the moment Legolas came back to himself. Over the blood thundering through his veins, he could suddenly hear her rapid heartbeat again and could feel her unsteady breathing. She felt his desire for her through his hands, his lips—she _had_ to feel it, because she was trembling beneath those hands. Time slowed for him and he was able to think about how much he wanted her…and how wrong it would be if they stayed this way until nightfall. Yes, he wanted desperately for her to be his wife…and he knew immediately that he should have been more careful, that she had been right last night about coming here, and that he was ashamed of what he had been planning in his subconscious. It was right to wait…and he was wrong to be doing what he was doing right then.

"Guin…" he whispered, stilling his hands on her back and loosening his grip on her body. "I need to let you go…I need to stop." She did not open her eyes, but he felt her face warm near his cheek. "I may do something that we will both regret and…" He shook his head. " _I want to give myself to you…right_ now _…and that is not proper_."

 _Oh, Ilúvatar, save me_! Just listening to his words sent shivers down her spine, and she felt him react then. He knew that maneuvering the two of them was the best idea, even if it was awkward. Slipping his foot beneath hers and rolling her from him, she landed lightly on her back in the grass, his knee over hers, his upper body above her, his hip bumping hers, as his hands rested on either side of her to brace himself, though his chest still touched hers for a single moment.

Every muscle in Enguina's entire body went taut like a wire; her mind went black by just the feel of his hip, the touch of the weight of his body over her, the way his head was silhouetted by the sunlight behind him. With his face hidden in shadow, her heart nearly burst with terror as the flashback of Bragolaur came upon her. She lashed out with both her hands and her feet, bringing her knee up to try to shove him aside and her fist hit him square in the side of the face as a scream tore out of her throat. Scrambling to get out from beneath him as he nearly fell on her with the impact of a fist he had not been expecting, she dug furrows in the ground with her fingers, trying to drag herself away, her breath catching, sides heaving. Realizing what was happening even though his ears were ringing from the impact, Legolas was desperate to free her, to release her from the terror she was feeling. She twisted and lunged as he tried to get leverage and push himself away from her, but it was so difficult when she was thrashing from halfway beneath him. He took another hit from her knee to his hip which dislodged him and then an open palm to the chest, which flung him completely from her as Enguina rolled to her side, half-moaning, half-sobbing, covering her head with her arms and curling into as tight of a cocoon as possible.

" _Nononononononono_ …" She lay whimpering, visions of Bragolaur and his hands and his body thumping against hers reigning in her mind. Trembling with the force of her vision, her body jerked with spasms of memory and she wept into her arms.

 _Ilúvatar, what have I done? What have I done?_ Legolas lay on his back, stunned and trying to regain his breath. He covered his face, closing his eyes in his own pain, tears filling them. How _wrong!_ How _ridiculous!_ What had he been thinking? Did he think she would have laughed? Had he been thinking that she would not have reacted? Had he been thinking she was well? She was fine? That he was in control? What a _fool! What a fool!_

He sat up, breathing hard and forcing back his emotions. She did not need him to be in tears! He was so unbelievably ashamed of how _thoughtless_ he was! _What a fool!_ What was he thinking to be above her? _Idiot! Ass!_ He went to her side and reached for her, listening to her crying broke his heart. Her pain was piercing, stabbing him over and over again in the chest.

She flinched like he was knifing her and cried out as though she had been burned by his hand, but he could not stop and he could not let her be alone, not like this, not _because_ of this. He brought her into his arms and turned her face into his neck, tears on his own face, unable to prevent them now.

" _It is Legolas,_ " he whispered over her weeping. " _Legolas…Legolas…forgive me…Guin…god, forgive me..._ "

She forced herself to try to relax against him, to melt into his body, to uncurl a little. Her hands came down to clutch together between their chests and she began shaking full force against him, crying in pain.

Time passed. Neither one of them knew how long; it may have been hours. The sun was hidden in the sky that once had been bright and beautiful, so Legolas could not tell what the hour was. He simply held her, unable to move, unable to beg her forgiveness, unable to know what to say to soothe her. There must have been quiet for some time.

" _Oh, Legolas_ ," she whispered painfully, her voice thick with tears, with emotion. "This is so wrong…so _wrong_. There is nothing that is not marred by his awful presence." She choked on her tears and he felt her hands tighten into fists. "Why…why must I think of him? Why must that _bastard_ always win? He hides in my thoughts every waking moment and then I feel him, so real, so there…so much pain. I have _begged_ Ilúvatar to _make this right_ , _to make me forget_. What can I do? Where can I go to escape him?" She broke down again; he felt the tears spill down her cheeks. "I do not _want_ him, Legolas!" she cried aloud, begged him, her fists now pressing hard against his chest as her fingers untwined from each other and gripped his tunic. " _I do not want him! I want you! I want to feel_ _ **you**_ _! To see_ _ **you**_ _! It hurts!_ _Please! Help me; help me!_ "

"Shhh," he whispered, pressing his bruised face to her head and rocking her gently in his arms. "It is not your fault, _moina quén_. I should not have ever placed you in that position. I was not thinking; I am the one who hurt you, my love; I made you remember. _I_ hurt you."

" _Nonono,_ " she whimpered. " _Not_ you… _not_ you, _him_. It is _always_ him. It is the mere memory of him that haunts me, that brings me pain. _Eru,_ " she moaned, " _how long_? I want to feel _anything_ … _anything_ but this! I want it to be _your_ hands, your lips, your breath on my skin!" She released his tunic and dragged possessive fingers along his throat, her nails scratching without control as she gripped him, curling her fingers around the back of his neck as she struggled to breathe evenly. "But what—what can I do? How can I fight a memory? How can I fight what I cannot see? The fear is so intense, so real, so painful that I am blinded by it, _consumed_ by it. Oh _Ilúvatar_ , Legolas, how? How can we fight what we cannot see? How can…how can you still love this utter mess before you?"

"Shh," he soothed her, holding her even more tightly. "Oh, my love, I do not know how we will fight. I do not know…but Ilúvatar will find us a way. He will make a way."

" _How_?" she whispered brokenly, and he knew he could not answer. He _had_ no answer.

"Let me pray," he replied, and he felt her tightening around him, clinging to him as though he as her lifeline, the only thing that kept her anchored in this storm of agony. He closed his eyes and reached out with his whole being to the only One who could bring her peace.

" _Father_ ," he pleaded, " _Father_ , she is so _tired_." He heard her break down again, felt her body shake with the jerks of grief, of fear, she felt. "She is tired of running, of fighting; she is broken, Lord,and is lying at the feet of your grace, begging for mercy. How much longer will this go on? Fear, grief, the memory of pain, these are the things that haunt her. You brought us together, Lord; you put me here to help bring her peace. _Help me_. We are here on our knees before you. We are begging for you to take us over. We lay everything down, every hope, every dream, every desire…we ask for your mercy, we ask for your peace. Fill her with the strength to face these demons, the strength to trust you to answer, the strength to trust you to heal and believe that you are beside her, holding her each step of the way. We surrender all to you…everything…take us over…and make us whole again."

" _I surrender, Father_ ," she whimpered into his neck. " _I need you…every hour I need you_."

She clung to him, and he simply held her, whispering the prayer, the plea over and over again. And then, after a time, he sang softly, to encourage, to bring her peace.

 _You are reaching through the storm_

 _Walking on the water, even when I cannot see_

 _In the middle of it all, when I feel you are a thousand miles away_

 _Not for a moment, will you forsake me…_

 _After all you are constant_

 _After all you are only good_

 _After all you are sovereign_

 _Not for a moment will you forsake me_

 _You are standing in the dark_

 _Whispering your promise, even when I cannot hear_

 _I am held in your arms, carried for a thousand miles to show_

 _Not for a moment, will you forsake me_

 _And every step, every breath, you are there_

 _Every tear, every cry, every prayer_

 _In my hurt, at my worst, when my world falls down_

 _Not for a moment will you forsake me_

 _Even in the dark when it is hard…_

 _After all you are constant_

 _After all you are only good_

 _After all you are sovereign_

 _Not for a moment will you forsake me_

* * *

Thranduil, Arwen, and Aragorn sat beside each other on the front porch of the King's House, the night beautiful and quiet. It was nice to enjoy it. Thranduil sighed softly, looking up at the stars. The afternoon had been cloudy, but the night had cleared to shine in all its glory.

"It is so clear tonight," Thranduil said quietly, "that you can see every star. What a beautiful evening." He looked over at Arwen who sat not far from him, and Aragorn, who sat on the rail of the porch, smoking his pipe for the first time in ages. He smiled at them. "Thank you both for sharing it with me."

"We welcome your company, Thranduil," Aragorn replied. "It _is_ good to see you. Living such wide distances apart does not welcome visiting."

"And we have our own realms to care and provide for. A very important duty we cannot neglect." Aragorn nodded once, looking down at his pipe for a moment. The Elven King tilted his head, glanced at Arwen again, who had her knees pulled up to her chest with her chin resting upon them, and looked back to Aragorn. "This suits you both very well, you know."

"What is that?" he asked.

"Being the Lord and Lady of this City. You were always worried about it," he stated, "becoming a King. Anyone could see that, even when you never mentioned it or appeared to be. I remember the time you spent in Mirkwood—"

"You were a bit… _grimmer_ then," Aragorn said and Thranduil nodded slowly.

"I do not feel any less grim, though perhaps I may appear that way as I am out of my Realm and spending time with my son…and looking forward to his wedding." He nodded back towards the man. "You _are_ worthy of the crown. You have always been worthy of it."

"Always," Arwen whispered, and Aragorn bowed his head again.

Thranduil smiled. "Your humility has always been one of your defining traits and one of the most pleasing things about you; it draws people in, even when you do not expect it." He raised an eyebrow. "It seduced even the Evenstar."

Aragorn rolled his eyes and drew on his pipe, shaking his head as Thranduil looked over to Arwen. She remained looking out over the front rail towards the sky, quiet.

"You are distracted tonight," Thranduil said to Arwen, reaching over to touch her arm. It startled her because as Thranduil had thought, she was not quite listening to their conversation. "What is the matter?"

"Legolas and Enguina," she said, turning her head to look at him. "I am worried about them."

Aragorn lowered his pipe. "Knowing Legolas, they lost track of time." She nodded slowly, but he knew her too well to know that there was no way she believed that. "They are most certainly on their way home. They will be here soon."

"You sound confident," Thranduil commented.

"They are together," he replied simply in his calming tones. "Everything is going to be—" The three of them raised their heads at once and looked towards the street. Legolas and Enguina were not ten meters away, and as they drew closer, Arwen got to her feet, as did Thranduil. Aragorn remained where he was, watching intently.

There were two things that were immediate upon their step-up to the porch, Thranduil noticed. The first was that Enguina looked… _exhausted_. She was very nearly leaning on Legolas as the two of them made their way over, and upon arrival and the stairs, she looked close to collapse. There was no chatter between the two of them as they came either. Thranduil knew something was wrong; something awful had happened. And secondly—

"Legolas, your _face_!" gasped Arwen just as the thought registered to Thranduil as well. Enguina reached up with one hand and stroked Legolas's cheek from temple to chin just once. Then, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, saying nothing. Thranduil could see the bruising near his eye that stretched across his cheekbone.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked softly, taking Legolas's shoulder in his hand.

He shook his head. "Everything is all right," he replied, looking at Arwen and she stepped to Enguina's side, resting her hand against her friend's head. It was quiet enough that the four of them heard Enguina's little sigh at the touch, a clear comfort. Arwen fought the inner battle of taking her friend into her arms.

Thranduil stepped forward and opened the door to the King's House. "Enguina, you are unwell," he said gently. Then he directed his words to his son. "Legolas, you should take her inside and let her lie down."

"Only for a moment," Enguina whispered. Her voice was so weak, Thranduil wanted to reach out and carry her inside himself when Legolas did not. They followed them directly inside, Aragorn bringing up the rear as Legolas walked her into the other room to lay her down on the divan. Arwen diverted immediately to brew some tea, but Aragorn and Thranduil both followed Legolas to the sitting room.

Legolas sat her down and then helped her stretch out, reaching down to lift her legs up onto the divan. He unlaced the top of her boots and tugged them slowly from her feet. Despite the heat in the room, she looked chilled. Reaching up for the blanket that sat in the window, he took a knee and gently covered her with it, tucking the edge beneath her bare feet. Her eyes fluttered closed, but the three of them clearly heard her murmur, " _Just a moment_." Legolas laid his hand against her face, fingering her golden hair. Then he stood and backed away directly into Arwen. He turned and she reached up towards his face.

"For your cheek," she whispered, and lifted the wet cloth to it, pressing it there gently. He covered it with his own and gave her a hesitant smile.

"Thank you." Arwen moved past him and took a seat on the edge of the divan, smoothing Enguina's hair and looking carefully into her face.

"Ilúvatar in Heaven, Legolas," Thranduil muttered in a low voice, trying not to disturb Enguina, "she is clearly unwell! What _happened_? Did you fight someone today? Did you fall from—"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I would…rather not say," he replied.

"Is she injured?" Aragorn asked setting his pipe down on the fireplace mantle.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, everything is all right. She is just…tired."

Thranduil stared at him. "You would rather not—" he cut himself off; he could feel the stern, thunderous voice he used in his throne room returning, his temper flaring. He needed to be _calm_ , not agitated. "You could at _least_ tell us what we can do to—"

"You are doing it, thank you," he said, glancing over Thranduil's shoulder to give Aragorn a rather pointed look before meeting his father's eyes. "I cannot explain, Adar, therefore, it is best to simply…let it go." He frowned at his father. "Let it go," he said even more gently.

Thranduil suddenly realized what it felt like when he told Legolas he could not explain. But Legolas was a fool if he thought Thranduil did not know _something_ was going on that he personally knew nothing about. Clearly, Aragorn and Arwen knew; perhaps Enguina had a strange illness…but then why would Legolas not explain that to him? If anything, perhaps he could devise something to help her, being well-learned in lore and the forest. He _yearned_ to know the truth.

" _Is_ she truly all right?" Thranduil asked out of frustration. "Will you at least confirm or deny _that_ , Legolas? Then I will desist."

Though Legolas did not want to admit it, Thranduil's worry for Enguina pleased him more than he could ever say. It proved beyond any doubt he may have had that Thranduil liked Enguina very much indeed; he felt as though he had underestimated his father. He should have believed him when Thranduil had told him she would be as a daughter to him.

"She will be," he said. "I need to take her home so she can rest."

"She could rest here," Arwen said gently from Enguina's side. Legolas knew she was offering for both of them to spend the night. He should have known that if anyone might have figured out what had happened, it would be her. "It would be no trouble at all."

"I think it would probably be best if she slept in her own bed," he replied.

"You should have been carrying her," Thranduil chided him, and Legolas nodded. "I thought for certain she was going to collapse when you came up the stairs. What were you thinking?"

Legolas looked over towards Enguina's lovely face. "I agree with you, but I could not. She forbid me to carry her. I could not…disobey her wishes."

"It was one time you probably should have," Aragorn murmured honestly as Legolas frowned.

"She did not want to stop here either," he added, shaking his head, "but I did not think she would make it to the guesthouse. This was closer. I will, however, carry her back, unless of course she wakes up."

"I could see to that," Aragorn said softly.

Legolas looked over at him with mournful eyes. "Would you, please? She needs to rest." The man nodded and moved to trade places with Arwen. She moved to Legolas's side and took the cloth from him.

"Let me soak that again. Would you like some dinner while you are here?"

"Nothing that takes longer to eat than it will Aragorn to finish," Legolas replied honestly as Aragorn took his place, laying his hands on Enguina. Thranduil watched him for a moment, and then followed Legolas and Arwen into the dining room.

"Sit down and have some soup," she said, pouring him a bowl and setting it in front of him. "Enguina can rest here for a few minutes while you eat." Thranduil took a chair beside him. Legolas laid his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, as he waited for Arwen to give him a spoon. His father noticed how he avoided his cheek, which was clearly sore. It was on the edge of his tongue to ask him again, and when he opened his mouth and Legolas swallowed the first spoonful of soup, he lifted his head.

"I know that look," he said with a short, grim smile. "Do not waste your time asking. I am not talking about it."

Thranduil let out a breath. "You are upset about something," he probed gently.

"Stay out of it, Adar," Legolas warned, though not meanly.

"I am concerned for you and Enguina."

"You are nosy. I am not in your woods at the moment," Legolas reminded him. "You do not know everything going on here. You do not have all the information, and it is impossible to share it with you. _Please_ , Adar…it is _best_ to let it go." He gave him a humorless smile. "Sometimes, is it not _better_ to lack knowledge of something?"

Thranduil sat back against the chair, his posture perfect. "Has that ever been our strength, my boy?"

"No, but there is no better time for us to practice with handling our disappointment."

" _Legolas_ ," chided Arwen, standing behind him to hold the colder cloth to his face.

"No, he is right," Thranduil said with a sigh. "Finish your soup. How was your ride?"

Legolas thought back over the morning which now seemed _so long ago_. "The ride was perfect. Lómë and Brethil were ideal gentlemen and the Anduin was as crisp and beautiful as I have ever seen. I was glad to be there with her. It afforded us some quiet time among the flashing hours that seem to be through and done leading up to this wedding. Though most of me wishes it were here already."

Thranduil nodded. "I remember feeling that way." He gave Arwen a little smile. "Did you feel that way, my dear?"

"I probably should not respond," Arwen replied with a smirk.

"I will field that question if you like," Aragorn said as he stepped into the room and leaned his elbows on the back of the nearest chair. "It was interminable. Worth it, of course, but interminable, especially when Arwen arrived on the Eve of Midsummer and we had to wait until the next day to be wed. I think we spent half the night out sitting near the wall studying each other's faces in absolute silence. Though, I will be honest and say that I have no idea about the time; I was a bit distracted." Arwen blushed but said nothing, and Thranduil smiled. Aragorn looked to Legolas and said, "She is asleep and should not wake for several hours, but you should take her home." The elf nodded and took another spoonful of his soup before sliding it back on the table.

"You are not going to finish it?" Arwen asked softly, and Legolas reached up and took her hand from his face as he stood.

"I am finished, thank you," he said. "It was good, but I am not hungry." He touched his father's shoulder as he rounded the table and headed back into the other room. Enguina was sleeping so peacefully that he was very tempted to let her sleep here and then stay with her. Would it not be better to have Arwen and Aragorn nearby? No…one day, she would have a horrible nightmare when they were nowhere near and he would _have_ to find a way to reach her. It would be best for them to be alone. Leaving her riding boots behind, he scooped her into his arms, blanket and all, cuddling her against his chest. He looked down into her face, and she looked so vulnerable that he whispered another silent prayer.

Thranduil met him at the door and opened it for them. "Let me walk you at least to the guesthouse?" he asked, and Legolas nodded before turning to Aragorn.

"If you could grab her riding boots—"

"Of course," he replied, and went into the other room to retrieve them.

"Thank you," Legolas said to Aragorn.

"Do not mention it," he replied. "Take some rest, Legolas. I gave Thranduil some herbs; you should soak a cloth in them and lay it over your face. It may heal some of the bruising."

He smiled. "Are you trying to keep me pretty for the wedding, Aragorn?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"I thank you again. Good night." He slipped out into the night with Thranduil close behind. Arwen stood, centered back behind the doorway, watching intently, and Aragorn could tell as he leaned against the doorframe that she was nearly ready to lunge down the stairs after them. He closed the door slowly and when he turned, saw her try to lower her shoulders and drain the tension in them. She then busied herself in the kitchen, tossing the rest of Legolas's soup and removing the rest of the pot from the still-warm coals. He waited, leaning against the table until she could find nothing else to clean up; she sighed and then stopped to look at him.

"You are worried," he stated.

"How am I supposed to feel?" she whispered. "I…feel as though I want to rush outside and down the stairs and demand Legolas bring her back her to rest." She appeared ashamed as he reached out and drew her closer to him. "I want to be sure she is all right; she is my closest friend. Something awful happened today. Did you _see_ her? And _Thranduil_ …what he must be thinking. He knows that we are protecting her, that we do not want to tell him what we know. I do not know what to do."

"We have already done it," he said easily, tugging her close to stand beside him. "We have done what we can to help Enguina. Now we must trust Legolas to take care of her." She noticed his pointed expression.

"It…that is difficult for me."

"I know. I feel your conflict."

"I _know_ she will not run for the Embrasure again; he would stop her first," she whispered. "I want to trust him with her life; I _have_ to trust him with her life. This is what I _wanted_ ; I wanted them to be together. I _wanted_ them to—"

"And they are going to be. In five days they will be wed," he told her gently. "You _need_ to trust that he is going to take care of her. He _will_ you know." She was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. He gently reached up and slipped his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head, massaging her scalp with his fingers. "Do you remember," he began tenderly, "the first few weeks after we lost the baby?" Her eyes closed in pain, in memory, and he wrapped his other arm around her. "Those first two weeks especially after their return, those nights when you would wake up screaming?" She swallowed, and nodded. "Did Enguina come to you? She knew what was happening; they were here every morning for breakfast and they knew very well we barely slept and that when they left we lay back down in bed just to catch a few more minutes. Did she come?" Arwen shook her head slowly, and Aragorn rested his forehead against hers. "Why do you think she did not come?"

"Because she trusted _you_ ," she whispered in reply. "Because she trusted _you_ , not me. She trusted that you would care for me, protect me, shield me, shelter me." She sighed and tried to release her tension. "Just as I must do for Legolas; just as I must trust him to do the same for her."

"Yes," he agreed. "You need to let her go. _Legolas_ is her strength now. Let him watch over her; let him be with her. If she needs us, they will come."

"But she will not," Arwen said softly.

"No…she will not."

"It is not easy, this…letting go. I have had to protect her for so long. When she is hurting like this, so obvious in front of me…I…"

"It hurts you; I know. It hurts me, too. But the nightmares are now Legolas's challenge. If they need us for anything more, we will be there for them in every way we can. All right?"

She nodded, breathing out slowly and then kissing him gently. "I love you."

"As I love you, beloved." He maneuvered his fingers in her hair again. "To bed?"

"To bed." She reached up and laid a hand against his shoulder. "How is that wound tonight? Yesterday it was not very well."

"It is better today. If I do not yank or smash it again—"

"You mean have someone _else_ smash it again," Arwen pointed out and he nodded with a smile.

"Yes. It should be better…before the wedding."

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his back. "I guess you will not be picking me up anytime soon."

"I could do it right now, but…I think it would be best to wait another night." She smiled, stepped back, and crisscrossed her fingers in his as she led him from the kitchen.

"To bed."


	42. Chapter 42

There was no warning when Legolas was roused awake by the screaming of Enguina, both aloud and in his head so powerfully his ears were ringing. It was fast, furious—one moment she was in his arms, the next she had thrown him back, crying out loud, fumbling from bed and racing for the door in terror. She did not get further than two steps from the bed before Legolas lunged across the bed and raced behind her, catching her around the waist and holding onto her tight just before she crossed the threshold into the hallway. She fought back, desperate for relief from the images in her head.

"No, Enguina, no," he said trying to soothe her, even as she struggled with him. "It is I; he is not here, he cannot harm you! You are _not_ running…"

Enguina thrashed once more, her breath _gasping_ out as she struggled to get control over herself. She could hear his voice; she could feel him almost _inside_ her head, as though his words were like feelings. Her eyes fluttered closed and when she focused, she could hear his heart beating in her head; her face was against his chest.

"No more running…" he told her gently and he felt her shudder in pain. He released his grip on her arms and instead ran his hands along her back, one hand stopping to hold her head against his chest, keeping her close. "I am here with you." She closed her eyes, listening to his words, his heartbeat, pressing the cloth of his tunic between her fingers. Minutes passed, and her knees grew weak in her despair.

"Legolas, we need to sit down," she muttered, trying to get her fingers to function enough to wipe the tears from her face. Her knees gave out and he caught her, scooping her carefully into his arms as he lifted her back to the bed, and sat down upon it, cuddling her against his chest and in his lap as he continued to hold her tight.

"Where were you running to?" he asked her, and she sighed.

"Anywhere..." she groaned. "Away…I was running away."

"You cannot run from me. Not anymore. I am going to share everything with you; we should share this as well. Depend on me."

"I keep _reacting_ ," she murmured, but her voice was muddy, still full of the memory of him. "Legolas, how are we…how are we going to survive this?"

"Just as we are, _meleth_ ," he whispered. "As long as it takes."

"How will we…how will we ever…"

He knew what she meant without her being specific. If she could not be beside him, if she could not have him above her, touch her, without thinking of Bragolaur, then how in the name of all things holy could she make love to him, let him make love to her?

"Sweetness," he said gently, honestly, "I do not know. I do not know, but Ilúvatar is with us, and he _will_ heal you."

"You believe that?" she asked painfully, and he smoothed her hair, stroked her cheek with the edges of his fingertips.

"With all my heart." She said nothing in reply, and he knew what she was thinking; she was desperate to believe him, to have his faith. He was determined that he would figure this out, that Ilúvatar would grant him wisdom.

* * *

"What about something like this? Enguina is _certain_ to like this," asked Éomer, holding up a beautiful dress. "I mean, she would look like the morning star in it, you know?"

Legolas smiled and touched it himself. It was made from a beautiful fabric, and Éomer was probably right that she would really enjoy it. Gimli leaned around him from the other side and eyed it.

"Aye, lad… _that_ dress is a thing of beauty. Perhaps these shoes to go with it?"

"She would probably prefer to go without," he said softly and then frowned at the shoes. "Those are too large anyway."

Éomer sighed. "We have been wandering the streets for _hours_ , Legolas. This is getting to be a bit ridiculous! You should have brought Éowyn; at least she _enjoys_ finding gifts."

"Éomer, how long did it take for you to find a wedding present for Lothíriel?" he asked and Éomer rolled his eyes.

"Please, do not even journey there. _And_ I needed to have the assistance of Éowyn and Faramir. It was awful." He laughed. "But she loved it, and now I have had to put up with it sleeping on our bedroom floor and—"

"You got her a _dog_?" chortled Gimli. "That is the most ridiculous—"

"It was the perfect gift for _her_ , you rotten dwarf. She had never had a dog." He shoved Gimli and Legolas slipped between them.

"I thought you two agreed to like each other?"

"We do," insisted Gimli, pushing Legolas out of the way and shoving Éomer back. "I was only teasing him anyway. So, what's the plan, lad? What time are we supposed to be back? I mean, you did leave Enguina with _Thranduil_."

"She wanted me to," he said softly, lifting another dress.

"They should get to know each other," Éomer agreed. "It was a good idea on her part."

Legolas nodded absently. "I _would_ like to buy her a dress," he said to himself, "but I do not know which one, what color..."

"She would love it," Éomer encouraged. "It would make her feel as though you wanted to see her in it; that you thought she would be beautiful." He smirked to himself. "Though she would probably look beautiful in just about anything…or _nothing_." Legolas hit him in the arm and Gimli laughed.

"Betraying the Evening Star, are we?"

"No," Éomer immediately denied. "I am simply proclaiming the truth. Arwen is still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I would never say anything contrary. Are _you_ betraying the Morning? You think Enguina is pretty beautiful."

Gimli smirked. "With the exception of the Lady Galadriel, a woman needs more facial hair for _me_ to think she's beautiful."

"Ugh," Legolas said.

"I agree!" cried Éomer. "The thought is simply…bizarre. I…do not think I have ever _seen_ any dwarf women."

"Well, one day, there will be some in the Glittering Caves, and you'll have to come and meet them. Until then, don't talk to me about beautiful." He nudged Éomer. "And what of Lothíriel? Is Arwen more beautiful than _her_?"

"Just because I think Arwen is the most beautiful woman in all of Middle-Earth does _not_ mean I am in love with her," Éomer complained. "I love Lothíriel with all my heart."

"Well, it _sounded_ as though—"

Legolas rolled his eyes. " _Why_ did I bring you two with me?"

"Because we are good fun," Éomer replied and he raised his eyebrows up and down as he tugged out a nightdress. "How about _this_?"

Legolas dropped his head in his hands. " _Please_ , Éomer, I do not need the image of you imagining _my_ new wife in that."

Gimli chortled again and Éomer grinned holding up his hands innocently. "I was trying to help you out, Legolas. She would be stunning in it."

"Yes, lad, you'd be breathless," Gimli said, as Legolas lifted his head.

"She could be wearing a riding outfit and I would be breathless at this point," he admitted. "Stop giving me advice, please. Just…follow me around."

"I've got an idea," suggested Gimli and Legolas sighed. "Why don't we head over to _The Foaming Fiest_ , have a pint, and _then_ come back out to find a gift? Give us some time to think."

"Honestly, Gimli," Legolas began to complain, but then Éomer threw his arm over Legolas's shoulder, grasped Gimli's shoulder, and steered the elf and dwarf toward the tavern on the second level.

"That, my friends, is an excellent idea."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Perhaps I will just make her something instead."

* * *

Enguina held the mixed bouquet of flowers in her hand and took in their delightful scent. Pruned at the height of their freshness, their scent would fill the entire guesthouse. She had never seen anyone as diligent or as patient as Thranduil with flowers, or as careful. The way he maneuvered each stem and cut gently away at leaves surprised her.

"You must love this very much," she said softly, watching him. "You have so much patience."

"Only with flowers," he said with a smile.

"Legolas would have no patience for this at all," she added. "He can lie in the grass for hours and watch my face, but ask him to clip a few weeds and he would be done for. He would tear half the bush away." Thranduil looked over at her.

"Yes, Legolas has less patience than I do, but this is my desire; I have a talent with flowers, with making things grow the way I wish them to. Galadriel and I had that in common, though she was much better at it than I. She could grow such wondrous things," he said thoughtfully. "I will admit that Middle-Earth lost half of its beauty when she left it for the shores of Valinor."

Enguina grinned. "Were you in love with her as well? Gimli still is."

Thranduil smiled, handing her another flower. "At one time perhaps…long, long ago before you were even a thought, my dear. But it would not have mattered; Galadriel and I were too different. Though, I suppose Glosvana and I were as well, yet we somehow got along," he said wryly. He looked away and returned to pruning.

 _Glosvana…that was her name_. "What a beautiful name," Enguina whispered.

"For a beautiful woman," he replied softly. "You remind me of her, at moments. Some of your facial expressions, though you look nothing alike."

"I am sorry."

He shook his head. "I was not telling you for you to be sorry." He was silent for a moment, and he knew she was _aching_ to ask him, wanting to pry but knowing it would not be appropriate; she did not know him well enough. He changed the subject so she did not have to feel the awkwardness any longer. "I was worried about you last night. How are you feeling this morning?"

"It was a…long night," she answered honestly. "It is nice to be spending the day doing something peaceful. Arwen offered to take me to the shepherds today, but she had many visits to make. I think it is nice to be here with you; you are…steady."

He raised an eyebrow, but he was not looking at her so she did not see it. "Until I am angry, or feel that I or someone else has been wronged." His eyes darkened a bit. "I have much pride, Enguina, and I protect what I love with a fierce and jealous desire."

"You and Legolas wear your faults on your sleeve," she said softly and he looked at her. "Nearly everyone else tries to hide them. It is refreshing, I think."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she replied, and looked down at the flowers in her hands. "Thranduil, can I…can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything, my dear."

"Something…awful happened to me in the past, and…again more recently," she whispered. "Your son has been the anchor in my life for the past months that we have known each other. Without him…I would not be here. In fact, I would not even exist." She looked at him, gaining courage as she continued to speak. "I never had a clue in the world what love was. I had never experienced it until I met Legolas. His strength, his compassion, his _constant_ devotion…" Her eyes filled with tears. "His utter surety of faith, these things he could only have learned from his parents. I know I will never meet Glosvana, but I _know_ he was encouraged and taught by the example in you. Thank you…I cannot tell you how much it means to me to have his love. I have never done anything to deserve it."

"If you had to do something to earn it, it would have meant nothing to begin with," he told her softly. "It would not even _be_ love, do you understand?" She nodded, and reached up to wipe her eyes. "We all have demons in our past, Enguina…some more terrible than others. Some we can forget, and some will continue to haunt us." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Though we, as elves, never forget the tragedies in our lives, we _can_ rise above them if we choose, if we desire to, if we work hard enough."

She looked at him. "Is that what you have done?"

He stared back at her a moment, lost in her question as he tried to come up with an answer. He set his arms behind his back and clasped his hands. "No…that is what Legolas has done." He smiled, choosing to ignore that he did not answer her question very well. "Legolas is a far better man than I could ever hope to be, and, though he does have his faults, I know that he will love you for the rest of your days. Legolas does nothing lightly, my dear, as I am sure that you know. His love for you will endure until the stars burn out. I have never seen him look upon another as I have seen him with you."

She laughed softly through her tears. "That is what he said."

He smiled. "And I thank you for your thoughtful words. One day you will see that the largest legacy that you can leave a child is their character." He bowed his head. "In that way, Ilúvatar has blest me very much indeed."

"I wish you could have met my parents," she said a bit wistfully. "I wish they could have known Legolas, that they had met the man I would marry. They always hoped for a good man for me…they probably never thought I would find the best. The one they thought I would choose…" She paled as her voice drifted off, and she could not believe she had even attempted to speak of Bragolaur to Thranduil. What had she been thinking? If he asked her…

Thranduil laughed, covering over her awkwardness. "Oh, do not let Legolas hear that too many times! It will all go to his head."

"I cannot tell him enough," she replied. "I cannot seem to _stop_ telling him how wonderful he is, and yet, I do not exaggerate."

Thranduil looked at her carefully for a moment, wondering what _had_ happened in her past and knowing very well he had no right to ask, and absolutely _no_ need to know. Instead, he took a step closer to her and looked down into her eyes. "Enguina, I know that your parents are no longer in Middle-Earth. I…perhaps this is not appropriate, but…I would like to make you an offer." He looked down, hesitating, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew that what he was about to do was _right_.

"Yes?" she asked softly, having no idea what he was about to say.

"Might I…might I offer to give you away? I know that it is generally tradition for a woman to walk alone when her parents are not present, and I know that it would seem as though I am giving you to my own son, but—"

"You would do that?" she asked, the shock clear on her face. She was so stunned that she covered her open mouth, tears spilling over. He wanted to reach out and wipe her tears away, but he refrained.

"I would."

"I do not know what to say," she whispered, trying to find her voice.

"Then say yes," he told her, "and allow me to do it. I ask only one thing."

"Anything."

He smiled. "You must say nothing to Legolas. Let it be…a _surprise_."

"I promise I will not speak a _word_." The joy on her face was plain and she lunged forward, hugging him hard before she realized what she was doing and released him, stepping back and looking rather embarrassed. "I…forgive me."

"Fine, fine," he said. "I hope that we can greet one another with hugs in the future; we are to be family, you know." Giving her a kind smile, he lifted the short knife. "Now, would you like to do a bit more pruning, my dear, before the day is done?"

She smiled and nodded. "Please. I need to know how to care for my own garden someday."

"And so you shall."

* * *

"You are late."

Legolas stepped up to the front porch of the King's House as he had the night before and was surprised to find Aragorn seated there. The man was _right_ of course; Éomer, Gimli, and himself had gotten a bit 'lost' and spent much longer out than they had originally planned. It was after dark now. Legolas crossed his arms.

"It does not appear _you_ have been here long either."

Aragorn gave a long sighed. "No, that is true, and when I arrived, everyone was already gone. Arwen did leave me a note to let me know that Enguina and her are together. I thought Thranduil was with them, but I saw him in the gardens several moments ago. He spends a lot of time there."

"Yes," Legolas agreed, glancing in that direction before taking a seat beside Aragorn. "I think it soothes him. This is the first time I have seen him outside of the Greenwood in…well, since The Battle of the Five Armies near Dale."

"Yes, and seeing him in war does not count."

"No. He is less tight here; he can relax…though he has never done that very well."

"Annî likes him. I think she is drawn to him. Two nights ago she kept asking him to tell her stories. I think she knows he is very old."

Legolas laughed. "That he is." Legolas grew silent and still, and Aragorn said nothing to fill in the gap between their words. The elf suddenly sighed and looked over to him. "You always know when to wait me out, do you not?"

"You have something you want to ask or say. Please do."

"I did something completely asinine yesterday near the Anduin," he said honestly, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at his hands.

"The herbs appear to be helping the healing of your face," Aragorn said. "The bruise should disappear in another day or so. That will be good before the wedding."

Legolas eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know it was connected to my face?"

"Enguina hit you. It does not require any clues aside from my knowing you and her and her history." His voice was gentle though. "You did something that brought back Bragolaur to her. Did you lose your head for a moment?"

"More than a moment," he said miserably. "Aragorn, I need to solve this before I make it worse. I…I do not know what to do. I know how much pain she is in, but I honestly cannot understand why she cannot let it go. He is _gone_ ; he can hurt her no more, yet he still haunts her dreams. I cannot understand, when I am right in front of her, that she somehow twists me into that evil son of Morgoth. What can I do? How do I _reach_ her? How can _I_ accept it, make myself understand it? I cannot seem to comprehend, to fathom, what she has lost. I know that her… _innocence_ is important to her, but why can I almost pretend it never happened yet she cannot?" Aragorn could hear the guilt in his voice. "What am I not seeing, Aragorn?"

Aragorn sighed and leaned forward. "I have seen, in many ways, Legolas, more than you have, even though you are thousands of years older than I. I have experienced and seen, in my short life, so much war, so much pain, so much despair. As you would say, these past years have been but a blink in your eyes, in your life, but to me, fighting the shadow has been the only thing I have ever known since I met Arwen and started my journey in the Wilds nearly seventy years ago.

"You say that you feel that you cannot understand what she has lost. Perhaps that is because you have never shared yourself with a woman. You, yourself, are a virgin, which shows your honorable character, your restraint, your belief that one man belongs with one woman alone. Those who do not have this rule, this obligation, you have seen the result of only in Enguina. I have seen the devastation that is brought on a family who has a young woman mistreated by orcs or men, both in Rohan and in the North. I can tell you that it usually means that the woman will remain alone for the rest of her life, cared for only by her family until she dies. For Elves, it usually means a journey to the Havens…or death.

"Enguina is lucky for two reasons…Arwen and yourself. If Arwen had not been there to rescue her those many years to begin, Enguina would have fled to Valinor long ago, and if _you_ had not fallen in love with her here, in Minas Tirith, she would have made the journey. This sort of act, Legolas, _marks_ the soul, damages it. To give yourself to another is to give a piece of your soul, to almost… _merge_ souls, if you will. I know. I had many opportunities, Legolas, as you well know, to find love in someone else's arms other than Arwen's, but I waited and hoped and Ilúvatar was good." He sighed softly and then continued, "When a woman is loose with herself and immoral, many men will have her, and for some reason, that is not generally a problem for most men. However, when a woman is taken against her will, no man will have anything to do with her unless he sees something in her, as you did with Enguina, though you did not know her history at the time. For you, knowing that about her would have changed nothing, and finding out did not, but as Enguina felt too well, that is not the truth with others. Women who have had their innocence taken from them, Legolas, are weak shadows of themselves, feeling unloved and beaten down by the weight of the world. The loss of innocence, the act of love-making, is a soul-shattering experience; it can be horrible…or the most blissful experience in the world.

"It is the first, the horror and fear-inducing experience, that Enguina has encountered, not the bliss that Arwen and I have shared. She is haunted by the event and fears it because she has been in pain and abused in ways that you saw, but have never experienced. You look forward to sharing yourself with Enguina, to touching her, to bringing her pleasure, to experience that pleasure yourself, and though a part of her desires you, another part is terrified of the fear and pain that has happened in the past. That is what she is feeling when you reach out, when you touch her in that way that makes her desire you. That is the struggle you see in her face, that you feel in her heart."

Legolas appeared embarrassed and did not say anything at first, but again, it was a time when Aragorn knew to wait as the elf absorbed everything he had just spoken. "Aragorn, though I know that what I will experience with Enguina will be wonderful and perfect, and it will be the one thing I share with no one else in the whole world, I, too…am _terrified._ I am not nervous about what to do or what to say, I am afraid she will see _him_ …that she will see him instead of _me_." He rubbed his face, his eyes filling suddenly with tears even though he had told himself he would not cry. "If what you have said is true, and because all she sees in love-making is an act of pain, an act of violence, what in the world can I _do_? How can I reach her? How can I touch her and have her see me, feel me…and not him?

"What happened at the Anduin was a mistake; it was nothing, innocent. She and I were chasing each other and she caught me, falling half on-top of me on the ground. I thought things were getting a…bit out of either of our control, and so I rolled her over." His face grew hot and he buried his head in his hands. "It was _innocent_ ; I meant nothing by it. I was not even _above_ her, but it all happened so fast and suddenly she was screaming and…she hit me, and then she threw me from her—I have the bruises to show for it.

"How can I fix this? How can I prevent her from seeing him instead of me? I want her to see _me_ , to feel _me_! _I am the one who loves her!_ He was just a bastard who hurt her…he is not _me_! How can I make her see that?" he begged. " _What can I do?_ "

Aragorn could hear the despair that was plain in Legolas's voice. "Legolas, this will not be what you want to hear," he said gently, "but…there is no way to _prevent_ her from seeing him. You can do everything you can to help her not to see him, but in the end, it may still happen. She holds so much fear and pain inside her, Legolas; you know this from her dreams."

"She had _four_ last night. There was no warning for any of them; they were terrible," he moaned miserably. "Guin kept trying to run from the room, but I could not let her. If I let her go, I just had this awful thought she might never come back."

"You did the right thing," Aragorn said softly, grasping his shoulder. "To confront the dreams is something you are going to need to continue. It will continue to be difficult, but eventually they will come and go. They will become less frequent, but they may never go away."

He nodded. "That I know. Tell me, Aragorn…what are some things I can do to help her?"

"You must remember that Enguina is not _choosing_ to see him. If she sees Bragolaur, or feels him, it is not because she wants to, and it is not because she is afraid of you. She sees him because she is afraid of _him_ , her memories, and the memory of what he did to her. You are going to erase that, Legolas," he told him firmly. "You, with your act of _love_ , will erase the violence, make her forget and focus on you, on your love for her. What you are doing is a _celebration_ of love because you are coming together of your own free wills, of your own choosing. In that alone there is a huge difference.

"Secondly, forever is a _very_ long time, and that is the amount of time you and Enguina will be together." He smiled. "You have all the time in the world," he said slowly, "if it takes you all night just to undress her, will it matter?"

Legolas choked back an embarrassed laugh. "No, I suppose not."

"You have had enough restraint up until this moment. You must not lose focus and you must go slowly, carefully. If you desire to please her, _never_ rush." Legolas blushed even worse and Aragorn shook his head. "If you are this embarrassed with me, how are you going to figure this out with Enguina?"

Legolas laughed and rubbed his face. "Ilúvatar, Aragorn, as if I know! I assumed it would not be difficult, that we would learn together, that if I were to make a fool of myself it would be all right because I was with _her_ , the only woman I have ever truly loved."

Aragorn smiled. "Then you should be fine. Arwen and I had much to worry about, and it was not easy. She was afraid, and so was I, but for different reasons. There are two cautions that I do want to share with you. Go slowly; take your time. A woman's first time can be difficult; even after what happened to Enguina, this is still her first time."

"I will be careful," Legolas agreed, "but you do not have to tell me to take my time. I want to draw it out as long as possible. I…want to know her, like you do Arwen. I want to know everything about her." He said this earnestly, honestly. "I love her so much, sometimes I cannot think about anything _but_ her. She consumes my thoughts, my heart…I," he shook his head. "I should stop talking now. Go on."

He smiled, and then grew serious. "If Enguina should see Bragolaur, you have to be—"

"What should I do?" he asked, and Aragorn saw the worry written on his face.

"I cannot tell you, Legolas," he said. "It will depend on the moment, the situation."

"Is there no advice you can give that may help? Please, Aragorn… _anything_."

He sighed and sat back in the chair, thinking for a moment. "There are three things that may help. Mind you, Legolas, they _may_ help, not that they _will_ ; you are fighting demons that no one but Enguina can see. First, do not let Enguina close her eyes. She will want to," he said firmly, "and she will have to fight the desire to do it. It requires no thought to have them closed, but without being able to see you, she may have an immediate memory of Bragolaur."

" _That_ was what happened at the Anduin," Legolas said suddenly. "Her eyes were closed when I moved her, and when she opened them, she did not see me; they were full of fear."

"Good, so even if you must remind her to look at you, do it. It might be difficult at times," he admitted, "but it will be best for both of you. Remind her to look at you, to watch you so she clearly will see it is you and not him. _All_ of this love-making should be done from a position _not_ above her. In fact, avoiding being above her for _any_ reason would be a good idea, especially when you come down to the final act, which will be long and drawn out because you are going to take your time. Trust me when I say that it is going to take you forever; you will not be able to stop touching her," he admitted softly. "When you are both finally ready, make certain that you are not above her."

Legolas stared at him, looking embarrassed again. "I might be very dull, Aragorn, but I—"

"I know," he said, sighing. "I know what you are thinking, but there are other ways of making love. You do not need to be _there_ ; give her time. Perhaps lying beside her would be the best at first," he suggested. "It would be slow and close." He nodded. "That would probably be best. Another thought I just had— _light_. Light some lanterns, candles, _anything_ that will be bright enough not to cast your face in shadow. Remember, she should see you."

They heard distant laughter, and knew immediately that Arwen and Enguina were returning. "I will remember what you are saying," Legolas said, nodding. "Is there anything else?"

"There was one other thing: your connection with her. You and Enguina still share that connection, yes?"

"We do…I heard her screaming in my head last night."

"Have you mentioned it to her yet?"

"No," Legolas admitted. "I feel too strange about it."

"Tell her, even if it is the night of your wedding. This connection can only help her feel that it is you. Open yourself to her and she will feel you as well. She might surprise you; she may already know of it and be afraid to mention it to you. If you tell her, you can share with her your thoughts and emotions…it could unite you completely." He smiled. "It is quite a way to communicate."

"But how do I—"

"What are you both doing, sitting out here in the dark?" asked Enguina as the two of them bounded up the steps to the porch. "You could have at least lit a candle."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Did you both run the whole way here?"

Arwen's eyes sparkled as she took a seat at Aragorn's feet. "We did, but by choice."

"Your knee must be feeling better," he murmured as Enguina crowded Legolas's space.

 _It must be from your glorious hands rubbing every inch of it._ Aragorn smiled at her.

"We cannot be excited to see you both?" Enguina asked as she slipped between his arms and into his lap. "Hello," she said, and pressed her lips to his gently, sliding an arm around his neck.

Both his eyebrows were up now. "You are in a much better mood than this morning," he told her. "What have you been doing all day? I am completely intrigued."

Enguina smiled and poked him in the nose. "Would you not like to know? I spent the day with Thranduil, first in the gardens and then in the stables where he introduced me to Maltan. The two of us returned here for dinner where we had a quiet dinner with Arwen, as Aragorn missed dinner and Éowyn was not feeling well tonight. It was actually nice."

"You spent the entire day _and_ the evening meal with my father? What in the world did you talk about?" he asked incredulously. Arwen laughed softly, resting her head against Aragorn's knee as Aragorn combed his fingers through her hair. "He has never been that interesting."

"How unkind!" she said, smacking him gently in the chest. "You know, your father is a wonderful man; I think all of the things you have said about him were simply made up. He told a great many stories about _you_ at my request. They were wonderful stories of your childhood. He even told me about your escapades in some battle with orcs and dwarves and…" she shook her head, "whatever else, but _you_ never told me about that."

"Ugh…I knew that was bound to happen at some point," he said, frowning. "Moreover, we have only known one another for a few months; we have not yet had time to talk about _everything_. I do not know everything about _you_ yet. Though," he said waggling his eyebrows at her, "I _will._ "

She blushed but laughed anyway. "You know, there _are_ some stories that should remain untold forever. Have you ever felt that way about a story someone told about you?"

"Mmm…probably something that my father told you earlier." She rolled her eyes and he smiled. "Honestly, I really do not even want to know what he told you. Where were you both just now? We have been here for some time."

"Oh, taking a walk," replied Arwen lightly, and Legolas looked into Enguina's eyes with his narrowed, trying to discern any untruths. Aragorn tugged Arwen's hair, but said nothing to give her away. She laid her head back and looked up at him with a secretive little smile as he traced her cheek with his hand.

"Keep your secrets," Aragorn mouthed at her, and she took his palm in her hand and kissed it.

"Is that true?" Legolas said to Enguina, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck, rubbing her nose against his and giggling.

"Of _course_ it is true! Arwen could not lie without both of you knowing. You were out later than planned as well," she said, rubbing noses with him again. "What were _you_ doing?"

"Do not try and change the subject or distract me with affection," he murmured to her. "I know exactly what you were doing."

"You do?" she asked hesitantly. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Well, at least now I know you were up to _something_."

She gaped at him. "That was entirely mean."

"I know you were plotting. Two females together are always plotting."

"Really? And what does it mean when two men are together?"

"That they are drinking and talking about women," Aragorn interrupted, "of which we were doing one, not both; we shall let you use your powers of deduction to figure out which one it was."

"Well," Enguina said, leaning in towards Legolas's face, "as it seems there are no mugs out here, you must have been talking about women. But who?"

He leaned in closer to her and stared at her mouth, barely able to think of anything but pressing his lips to hers at this point. "I will give you one guess. If you are right, I will kiss you."

"Me."

Aragorn chuckled and Arwen watched the two of them kiss, feeling her heart soar. She was so happy the two of them were in love, that they were together, that even though everything that could have gone wrong had done so, their love was stronger than all of it. It made her rejoice inside.

"I feel like we are being watched," Enguina murmured.

"That is because we are being _very_ obvious," Legolas replied, kissing her again, and then drawing back, holding his arms loosely around her.

Enguina looked over at Arwen, who still had her head back on Aragorn's knee, but was watching them and smiling. "Stop watching us, Arwen."

Arwen raised an eyebrow. "If you do not want to be seen, stop kissing where I can see you."

Enguina giggled, put her hand in front of Arwen's sight, turned Legolas's face towards her and then kissed him again. She felt Legolas's arms tighten around her back as he lost himself a bit in her kiss.

Arwen rolled her eyes and then closed them, reveling in the feel of Aragorn's hand in her hair. Legolas had never been worried about public displays of affection, and this clearly did not bother Enguina either. Sometimes, Arwen felt that she and Aragorn were on display too much, and that everything they did was subject to being talked about, so public displays were few and far between. They might hold hands or smile at each other, but they hardly ever kissed in front of other people. She felt Aragorn near her ear and she turned her head a bit so he would not brush it with his fingertips. _Oh no you do not. You are not doing that to me out here!_

She heard him chuckle and knew that he had heard her loud and clear. He leaned closer and whispered to her, "I think I need to brush your hair for you tonight and comb out these snarls."

 _Please do…_ "That is so kind of you," she whispered so that only he could hear. "But is that all you need, my Lord?" His breath on her ear nearly made her tremble, but she forced herself to remain still.

"Mmm…my shoulder is feeling better today."

"How much better?"

" _Much, muchmuchmuchmuch better._ "

"What are you two murmuring about over there?" asked Enguina suddenly, and Aragorn lifted his head slowly to lean back in his chair again; Arwen did not move, but a smile came upon her face.

" _Now_ who needs to pry?" she asked with a smirk.

Enguina rested her cheek on top of Legolas's head. "I was not prying."

"Yes, you were," Legolas reminded her. "Do not lie, dearest."

"Fine; I was prying."

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Aragorn said softly, looking over at Enguina and giving her a little smile. "Tomorrow night, Legolas is going to be stolen away by his friends for some celebrating and manly advice."

"Honestly?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "I have never seen you all drink so much."

Legolas laughed. "It _has_ been some time since we have had reason to celebrate, and when Éomer and Gimli get together, well…"

"Oh, is that tomorrow?" asked Arwen. "Enguina, that means you are with us."

"Us?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Éowyn and myself," Arwen said, and then she cringed. "Oh, I _do_ hope Éomer told her or she is going to be _so_ angry."

"Wait, what does this have to do with me?"

"Ladies' night," Arwen said with a grin as she lifted her head. "You are not going to complain, are you?"

"Well, no…I suppose not if Legolas is busy."

"Trust me…he is busy," Aragorn added.

"We will have to find someone to watch Annî," Arwen said.

"Perhaps Thranduil would take her," Enguina offered, "or is he part of your ridiculous scheme?"

Legolas laughed. "It was _Éomer's_ scheme, no one else's. What is more, and funnier, is that you seem to think _my father_ a good choice for a nursemaid! He would just love to hear you say that."

"Well, she _likes_ him at least. I think he would be a good choice, if Éowyn is all right with it that is." She stroked Legolas's face and he closed his eyes. "What does manly advice consist of?"

"You know," Legolas said, ignoring Enguina's question, "how come, Aragorn, when you were wed, we did not have a celebration for you?"

"Arwen did not know anyone," Aragorn said logically, "and to be honest, why, in all of Middle-Earth, would I want to spend the night before my wedding with the lot of you when I could have spent it with Arwen? To be honest, how does that require any thought?"

"That hurt," Legolas said, faking sadness, "but it is true."

"Excuse you," Enguina said, tweaking Legolas's ear.

"Ah!" he growled, yanking his head back. "Stop that! I _hate_ it when you do that."

"I hate it when I am ignored," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Ooo…they found something they hate about each other," Arwen teased quietly while the two of them went on.

"I hate it when you pretend you know more than I do."

"I hate it when you are grumpy and sound like a bear."

"Me? I am not grumpy! _You_ are the one who is _not_ a morning person!"

"Well, at least they found out _before_ the wedding," Aragorn replied, talking over the two of them being bratty to each other. "Quick, contact the church, tell them to hold off on the rest of the decorating. I will contact the cooks in the Tower and tell them the celebration has been cancelled."

"What?" Legolas and Enguina asked together, both of their heads swiveling towards the pair.

"There will be _no_ calling off this wedding!" continued Legolas. "It is already too far away."

"Oh, Legolas," laughed Enguina, "the wedding is in four days! That is so soon! I have my final dress fitting tomorrow—"

"How many times does that dress need to be fit?" Legolas complained. "This is almost ridiculous."

Aragorn laughed. "How many times did you try your dress on, Arwen?"

"Once," she said with a smile.

"Oh what does _that_ matter?" Enguina said, shaking her head. "Your wedding was in _one day_!"

"When do _I_ get to see this mystical dress?"

"Um…moments before I walk in the church?"

"Come on now," he whined, "not _every_ tradition needs to be—"

" _Yes_ ," she stressed, poking him in the chest, "because _I_ believe in tradition, remember?" Legolas blushed and Arwen rolled her eyes. "So, you will _not_ see it before the ceremony."

"She has a point," Aragorn pointed out. "You are doing things properly, so…good for you. Try the dress on a thousand times, yes? For how long you will be in it, you might as well as not."

"Aragorn!" cried Enguina, blushing, and Legolas laughed along with Aragorn.

"That was _not_ what I meant, but…" he shrugged, "take it that way if you must."

"What else needs to be done?" Arwen asked.

"Well, as there is no guest list, we do not have to worry about that," Legolas said with a smile. "Everyone is coming!"

"I suppose Erumar is not going to make it," Enguina murmured. "I wish she would come, but perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps it would not give her any peace to see me married."

"It would give her peace for you, but not heal her heart, you mean," Arwen said.

"No, it might hurt too much; the wedding…all of it."

"What else have we to do?" asked Legolas, and Enguina turned to look him in the eye.

"Just...final things. Decorations are settled; we need the fresh flowers, but they will be the morning of. And…um…I think everything else is settled."

"You have your rings?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas laughed as sheer panic flashed through Enguina's eyes. "Not quite," he said, fingering the sign of troth on Enguina's hand. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, definitely," she said, calming down at his easy tone.

He curled his fingers through hers and clasped her hands. "Would you like to take a walk with me tonight before we turn in?" She nodded and slipped from his lap and he rose, turning to Aragorn and Arwen. "I know it has been a long day for you, Aragorn, but would you and Arwen enjoy a walk with us?"

Aragorn shook his head, but smiled. "No, but we do thank you."

"I think Enguina and I did enough walking tonight," Arwen teased as her eyes sparkled. Enguina giggled and Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Elvish women. Fine, be on your own then. Sleep well."

"Good night," Enguina said as both Aragorn and Arwen got to their feet as well.

"Have a wonderful walk," Aragorn said, and he took Arwen's hand and opened the door as Legolas and Enguina moved off. He held the door open for her. "Do you think I may actually _finish_ brushing your hair tonight?"

"You never _began_ the other evening," she whispered as she slipped past him inside and he allowed the door to close behind them. "So if you even get through one stroke it will be better than that."

"Oh, that is right… _you_ were brushing your hair…and I distracted you." She tugged him along towards the bath where her brush was, Aragorn putting out candles as he followed.

"Did you have dinner?"

"I do not need it," he murmured, watching her in the candlelight of their bedroom. He slowed and stopped, pulling her back to him and scooping her off her feet. "Hunger for food is not even a thought."

"Your shoulder _is_ much better."

"Wait…" he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead, "wait and see."


	43. Chapter 43

_His hands were on her, his breath hot on her skin. Always the same feeling, the heavy pressure on her abdomen, his hips pressing down on her as he laughed at her sickness, at her disgust over what he was doing to her. The way his hands stroked her flesh out of wanton lust, the way she trembled with despair at the loss of what he was taking from her…oh, how she despised him even as she cried out in pain, in shame. His face lowered toward her, blocking the light so she saw nothing but him, even as he pressed down upon her._

 _"You are mine, fair love…mine."_

Enguina woke suddenly from the dream, but this time, she did not even cry out. Shame gave way to furious anger; it ripped through her, tearing at her heart. She sat up slowly, dragging her knee to her chest; surprisingly, she did not wake Legolas, but his arm had not been over her. She remained there for several moments, breathing hard, fighting the desire to rage, to scream, to cry aloud. How she _hated_ him! Bragolaur—the taker of everything, the one who could have ruined her entire life, had still stolen nearly fifty years of it! She _hated_ him; wished she could rip his throat out. Holding all of those desires in, she closed her eyes and touched her forehead to her knee, cursing him under her breath. Her hands wound into her hair.

 _Why, Father? Why can this not come to an end? Why must I still feel_ him _? Legolas is the one I love, the one I_ want _to give myself to. How can I react this way to him? How can I feel as though he is like Bragolaur? He is_ _ **nothing**_ _like Bragolaur! Legolas's hands are so soft, so tender…his eyes so full of love…every muscle in his body bears the signs of his restraint so that he will not cause me pain. He is the most thoughtful being on the planet. So then why can I not trust him? Why can I not have him touch me and see only him, not the bastard who took me? Why must I experience the fear?_ _ **I want to experience love!**_ _I want to experience pleasure, the pleasure that Arwen spoke of, not pain! Did you not give me to Legolas for love, and him to me? Then let me feel it! Let me feel it now! Enough pain! Enough agony!_ The angry tears flooded her eyes as her hands tightened in her hair. _I am done with these evil dreams!_

Her desire for Legolas, to beat back Bragolaur and his awfulness won out in her mind. She shoved back the fear, the terror, the pain, and the sheets. She never gave thought to what she was doing; driven by the darkness of the dream, desperate to defeat Bragolaur's hold on her, she turned to Legolas and urgently shook him awake.

He woke instantly, but it seemed as though he was coming out of a deep sleep. "Guin?" he asked, blinking nearly incoherently, worried at being so forcefully shaken awake. "Guin, what is it? A dream? Are you all right? What—"

" _Shh_ …" she whispered, placing her fingertips against his lips and then reached out to stroke his face. Legolas struggled to sit up, trying to figure out what was happening. There was something in the way she quieted him, and then her voice, low and quiet whispered his name, " _Legolas…_ " He swallowed, trying to say her name, and then she was on her knees on the bed, leaning down into him, her hands cupping his face as she desperately pressed her lips into his.

 _Guin…Guin…_ This was… _different_. Her hands clutched his face, her fingers tangled in the back of his hair; was he still asleep? She was kissing him, _fiercely,_ _forcefully_ , and his body responded with an enthusiasm it should not have. Every nerve was awakened in him in this state of part-waking and part-dreaming. Her lips were pressing against his, over and over, her fingers repeatedly tangling in his hair, her nails digging into the back of his neck. He reveled in the feeling.

 _Ilúvatar…_ this was what he had hoped it would be! No _fear_ …no _uncertainty_ …this was what he imagined her to be like, wanting him, _desiring_ him…and he _liked_ it, _wanted_ it. He had _dreams_ about the moment when she would overcome the fear, what she would really be like, what she would do, how she would respond to him. This was just another dream…he truly believed that once they had tackled her dreams, she would want him as much as he wanted her and love-making would be truly beautiful. He had saved himself for so long…for _this_ …for those long fingers wrapped in his hair, the taste of her on his mouth.

It was a _dream_ , but his hands found her shoulders and even within the dream he was uncertain; should he push her back? Even in this dream, he did not see a wedding band on her hand…but her kisses set him on _fire_. How could he deny her? It was clear she desired him. This was _unbelievable_ …he could hardly breathe as her hands tumbled to his throat, his neck, scratching the skin they found…

" _Legolas…Legolas…_ " she murmured into his mouth, fueling his desire for her. Her hands slipped below the neck of his tunic, finding a place on his skin near his shoulders, and the hands that had been in the process of pushing her away, to tell her it was a dream, suddenly _forgot_ what they had been about to do. Should he… _what?_ Should he…what had he been thinking? There was _nothing_ but her, nothing but the bare skin of her arms in the nightdress she wore, and when their mouths broke apart, he began sowing kisses along her jaw, and her head fell back to allow him to do it.

He heard her breath leave her and felt her hands leave his body to take his wrists. His lips found a sensitive spot near her left ear and she trembled forcefully, still finding the presence of mind to tug his hands down to her waist. He gently took her sides in his hands, his hands acting of their own accord, fingers feeling along her ribs, thumbs nearly beneath her breasts. She wrapped her hands around his head and kissed him again as his hands dragged slowly up the back of her nightdress—up to her shoulders then down as she arched into him, feeling every sensation from each finger. His fingers located her spine above the line of the dress and she gasped when he shifted her hair aside and let the pads of his fingers focus on each vertebrae.

Enguina wanted to moan with pleasure; instead she was silent as she reached down and took one of his hands back to her shoulder. His left now moved to her side where it had been before, his thumb brushing the fabric of the gown just beneath her breast. Taking his fingers, she spread out his hand against her chest, keeping her lips pressed to his. He ran his hand out and along her shoulder, collecting the strap of the night dress with his fingers and brushing it away from her skin and off the shoulder. He slipped his mouth away from hers, kissing down her throat feather-light and then along the muscle between her neck and shoulder. She could not even take a breath; his kisses were the sweetest thing she had ever felt in her entire life. She wanted _more_ …she wanted to be utterly lost in his embrace, in his touch. His hands wandered and she began to breathe again, but only raggedly and she began to undo the lacing on his tunic, slipping her fingers against his skin, along his collarbone, following the muscles of his chest.

 _Oh…heaven…this is what this is like? This is what it is like to have him touch me? Father, let me feel more! Let me feel his true desire for me! Legolas, Legolas! Please!_

She trembled as the hand that had removed the strap collected her hair and shifted it aside again; his mouth came back to the base of her throat and Legolas began kissing his way along her collarbone. She let her head fall to the side, hardly able to breathe as his kisses continued up behind her ear and then back to her neck and out again to her shoulder. There was no control here, only desperation to feel the force of _his_ love.

" _Touch me…_ " she whispered, begging him, and he moved to obey her. " _Touch me, Legolas…touch me and make me forget…make me unafraid."_

He _froze._ It was her words, the very words she spoke that made him realize this was _no dream_. This was _Enguina_ , pleading with him to touch her— _her own words!_ His mouth was on her skin, his hands were— _where were his hands?!_ They were on her, touching her, in places they never should have been! He felt hot, so hot, shame filling him. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder, unable to breathe.

Enguina had no idea of the difference in him; she had no idea what he was thinking, feeling in that moment. She thought he needed a moment to collect himself; in the meantime, her hands slipped further beneath his tunic and began exploring the chest she had been longing to have the courage to touch. She heard him gasp and then muttered words.

"Oh _…Guin…nonono,_ " he whispered. _No, no! This is not right! No, no!_ He yanked his hands back from her body as if she had burned him, and she recoiled from him suddenly as if slapped. Blindly, he turned away and stumbled, getting caught in the sheet as he tried to slip away; falling off the bed, he tumbled to his knees, staring at his hands. He had _touched_ her…had his hands against her breasts as though he could simply do as he wanted! He was wrong, so _wrong_. He lowered his head in his hands and covered his face, shame filling him.

Enguina sat, staring at the back of his head, barely able to think, barely able to feel anything except what she had been feeling mere moments ago. _Desire_ …she had wanted him, had felt his desire burn for her like nothing she had ever known. She knew, she could feel it in the…the… _pleasure_ she had felt. This was…this was like _nothing_ she had ever known…like _nothing_. Arwen had been _right_! She had been right all along. Oh _god_ …the way he had _touched_ her, the press of his mouth on her shoulder, at her throat, by her ear—where he had kissed her, but _oh!_ The _bliss_ she felt!—wherever he had touched her skin.

What—what was that sound?

Oh _god…oh…god…_ What had she _done?_

Legolas was on the floor before her; she was still kneeling on the bed, half-flung back from where she had been, the nightdress hanging from her shoulder. She was hardly clothed? Legolas had—no, _she_ had asked him to…she had practically begged him to… Enguina swallowed hard; what in the world had she been thinking? Then she realized, she had _not_ ; she had been reacting…and she could do no more thinking now without going to him. Pulling her dress on appropriately, she slipped off the bed on weak knees and onto the floor beside him. Reaching out slowly, she touched his shoulder, thinking that he might very well pull away from her hand. Legolas could not, but…oh, he wanted to!

" _Ilúvatar_ , Guin, do not comfort me…" he gasped, continuing to hide his face from her. "I am…I am _ashamed_ …"

"No, no," she whispered and then touched the hands that covered his face, "this was me…this was me, _my_ fault… _mine_ , not yours."

"No," he choked out, shaking his head rapidly. "I thought…I thought…" He could not finish those words, unbelievably embarrassed, ashamed at what had happened. "I was _touching_ you…I had my…my hands were on you! I should cut them off!"

"No! It was because I _wanted_ you to," she said, as ashamed as him. "Legolas, look at me."

" _No_ ," he groaned. "I swore I would never—I _promised_ myself I would not—Why did I—"

" _Look_ at me." She was just as upset as he was, but she was responsible this time; she would not let _him_ run.

"I cannot…I _cannot_ see your face. Not after what I just…did."

She stared at the side of his head, her fingers clutching his. "Legolas, we cannot sit here like this; we need to speak to one another. You cannot run from me."

He dropped his hands and, looking at her, his face wet but with no tears in his eyes, said softly, "You cannot use my words against me." Enguina clutched his hands in her own and looked into his face.

"This was _my_ fault," she told him seriously. "I…I _wanted_ this. I asked you for it; this was _me_. I was dreaming, Legolas. I was having a nightmare that did not wake you and when I woke I-I felt different. I wanted to fight him, to rage, and I…" She shook her head. "So I ran to _you_ …to feel what I wished I could have…what it _should_ have been like."

"I should not have touched you that way," he whispered. "I should have realized—"

"But I wanted you to…and I…yes, we were wrong," she agreed in that low voice. " _I_ was wrong."

" _I_ was dreaming," he admitted, and his face burned with shame. "I have been dreaming about you, being with you for days now…that was why I did not wake when you had the dream."

"You have been…"

"Yes, dreaming…about what loving you will be like," he said, and he shook his head. "I am so ashamed; I thought…I thought…what you were _doing_ …"

"You thought you were still dreaming," she said, realizing what had happened, and he nodded, lowering his head. She had been acting on her dream, and Legolas had been thinking he was in the middle of one. He was more ashamed about dreaming about her in this way than what he had actually done. "Oh, Legolas," she whispered, "I am so sorry." She laid her hand on his shoulder, but he looked away.

"May Ilúvatar forgive me," he muttered. "I should not _sleep_ until the wedding…or I should cut off my own hands and have them thrown from the Embrasure. I cannot believe…I should never have—"

"We _are_ a pair, are we not?" she asked, sighing, "I who have terrible dreams and just tried to seduce you, you who have wonderful dreams and feel terrible guilt over what I almost asked you to do." Then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head. "Legolas, how I _wish_ I would dream about you as you have been dreaming about me."

"I am ashamed of them," he whispered. "Do not mention them."

"Why are you ashamed? You are the one who told me that desire is natural. What you feel for me, what I feel for you is not wrong—"

"But acting on it _is_."

"We _said_ that we were wrong," she agreed, "and when this conversation is over, we will seek forgiveness. _I_ was wrong. I wanted the dreams to end so badly I thought that if I begged you to touch me, I could beat him back, I would feel what your love was really like."

"Do you not already know? Do you not already feel it?" he asked quietly and she laughed softly, sitting back on her heels and releasing him. She covered her mouth, and he stared at her.

" _God_ , Legolas, not like _that_ …I had no _idea_. None at all…" She laughed, a near giggle, and he blinked.

"How can you be…how can you be laughing?"

"I do not know!" she cried, shaking her head as she then blushed. "I feel so…I want to be with you…I _want_ it now, and it is new and different and _wonderful_. I want to give myself to you, not just because I love you, but because I want you, too. This was _real_ , Legolas…I _desired_ you." _And for the first time ever, I was_ happy _about it! I wanted you, Legolas. Please understand!_

"I know that," he whispered. "I felt it."

"Even though a part of me is still afraid, terrified, I know that a part of me is going to be feeling like _that_ : desperate for you, for your touch. I cannot even…I do not think there is a way to express what I felt when you touched me. I should never have asked that of you, but I did not think. I am so sorry."

"I…you are not angry because of my dreams?" he asked softly. "I was afraid they would frighten you, having me dream about…well…"

"No," she whispered, "because you love and adore me, as I love and adore you. If that was the only reason you wanted to be with me, then you would be as bad as Bragolaur. But you love _me_ , and because of that love you want to give yourself to me. There is a difference. I know you desire me, Legolas…"

"Enguina," he said firmly, "I cannot have that happen again." He looked down at his hands. "I would never forgive myself if I…broke my vow to you. I said I would protect you…even if it is from myself. We need to wait; _I_ need to wait…it is what is right."

"I know," she whispered back. "And I am sorry. I should never have put you in that position when I know very well what you feel for me. I know I was reacting to the dream, and that is no excuse…but…I…" She could not say it in front of him. She could not say she was not sorry; it would not be true. She _was_ sorry that it had gone so far…but she was _not_ sorry he had touched her, and she wished him to do it again…even right now. The fear in her of their wedding night was _drowning_ in the part of her that could not wait, that desired to now give herself to him. She knew that in the morning light things might feel different, that the feeling might fade. Might she feel guilty for what she was feeling right now, for what she had felt?

"Do you want to—"

"No, Guin," he whispered, shaking his head, "I cannot lie back down beside you. Not when I…" His face burned again with shame. " _Please_ …" She stroked the back of his head.

"I am so sorry," she said again, laying her head upon his.

"So am I."

They prayed together; after that, it was the longest night they had ever spent in the same room but separate. When the morning came it found her in the bed and him in the chair, and they finally decided that there was no sense in pretending to sleep any longer. He left the room to change; she changed into her day clothes and met him outside in the sitting room as he was pulling on his boots, his head down. Dawn had changed nothing; Legolas felt every bit as awful as he had the night before. She stood silently for a moment, and then went to his side.

She extended her hand before his face and waited. He lifted his head and looked at it; then he took it and she tugged him to his feet. "Come with me," she murmured, and as she turned away and left the guesthouse behind, he followed her willingly…but silently.

* * *

Enguina had taken him to the mountains, to the place where she knew he felt closest to the One. She wanted to comfort him, but did not know where or even how to begin. Once they came to the particular rock face where Legolas enjoyed sitting, she sat down and made room for him. He paused, staring out across the Pelennor, seeing but not seeing. She knew that face, for she often saw it on her own.

"Legolas," she began, and he glanced down at her, "if you…if you need to be alone for a little while, I understand." He looked guilty and she squeezed the hand she had been holding since they left the guesthouse. "Please…I understand."

Legolas nodded and then he gently squeezed back. "I need to be alone…just a few moments," he said seriously, and she nodded, feeling guiltier than she had ever felt about anything as he walked away, higher into the mountains. She sat, staring at his back as he disappeared from sight, feeling as though she had done the most awful thing she could have ever done to him. She lowered her head to her hands, the skin along her left shoulder _burning_ where he had pressed his lips.

* * *

Legolas climbed as high and as far as he dared to go without getting himself killed without rope. He had never been this far up the mountain and out onto the ledges, but he was determined to seek a place that no one but he would ever go. What he found was a tiny patch of grass with a single dandelion growing out of it; quiet, secluded, and completely sheltered in by rock—it was perfect. He hopped down inside the space and dropped to his knees, resting his head against the rock face and groaning aloud.

"Oh, Father…what the _hell_ have I done? The one thing in my life that I love with all my heart and I could have ruined _everything_. I could have hurt her, damaged our relationship beyond repair! What if I had touched her and she had…no, she was the one who had wanted it. What in the world was I thinking?

"Oh, no, I _knew_ what I was thinking; I was thinking that I desired her and it was a dream so it did not make any difference. But I am _wrong!_ To be lustful, to lust after her is wrong, even in a dream! And to think that it was all right to touch her that way in a dream, without us being wed, is also wrong. I know that I have teased myself about loving her; I have even teased her, but I never meant to touch her that way until we were wed. I should not be so lustful!" His hands tightened into fists and he pounded the grass and the dandelion. "I _love_ her, so of course I desire her! But where is it written that it is my right to act on lustful thoughts? Why can I not fight these thoughts?

"I told her desire was natural, but _acting_ on that desire is wrong. How can I lie beside her, protect her these next few nights and _not_ dream about her that way, not desire to touch her like that? You know my thoughts, the most secret, quiet places of my heart; you _know_ I have been thinking about what it will be like to make love to her, to show her what love is really like, to show her _my love_. I have even told _her_ of my desire to change her perception of love. I even spoke to Aragorn of what I should _do_ to make her more comfortable! Are all of these things wrong? What can I do to prevent hurting her? What do I know of love-making?" he asked, venting out his frustration by slamming his fists against the ground again.

"To touch her skin was like _heaven_ ; to feel that what _I_ did made her tremble! You have _made_ me to _love_ this woman! I _know_ it; I have known it since I saw her! She has awakened something in me that nothing else ever has—I am _alive_ in her! You have had me wait, all this time, so that I could be the one for her now, so that I have ever known another woman. _Teach_ me how to handle these feelings I am desperate to show her! Let me _learn_ with her; let her trust me.

"And yet, _she_ wanted it, she wanted _me_! What does that even mean when she has been so hurt and unsure? I know she said she was trying to push back thoughts of Bragolaur, and she seemed so different! Teach me how…teach me that I can make love with her and _not_ make the destruction of _him_ the focus of our love-making! I do not want to be thinking of him, but how can I avoid it when I am with her and she _might_ be? Should I talk to her?

"And what of this desire I feel? Should I stay away from her until the wedding? But then what of her nightmares? What should I _do_?" he moaned aloud, digging his fingers suddenly into the earth. " _I am so confused! So conflicted! Guide me, Ilúvatar!_ "

* * *

Enguina sat alone on their rock, feeling miserable. Legolas had been gone for some time, but she knew enough about him not to worry. She also knew that he needed some time alone…perhaps she should have realized that she needed the same? With only half her mind functioning, she reached up thoughtlessly and traced along her collarbone, then her neck, her jaw, back to the sensitive spot behind her ear that he had found…that he had _cared_ to find. She immediately felt hot, almost _feverish_ , and her hand trembled as she pulled it away and lowered it into her lap. What was _wrong_ with her?

She should have known very well what was _wrong_ with her—there was nothing _wrong_. This was a natural feeling directly related to her discovery of how much she really _did_ want to be with Legolas! How in the world could a few kisses and touches have done this to her? Well…more than a few, and they had been _serious_. Legolas had been so full of passion…her fingers brushed against her lips…so had _she_. And then, for Legolas to tell her he had been dreaming about her—dreaming about making love to her! And _she_ had told him that she _wished_ she would dream about it? What in the world had she been thinking, to say such a thing? She tried to give herself some excuses—it was _so early_ in the morning; Legolas had distracted her by what he was saying; _she_ was thinking about the terrible nightmares she was used to having—but none of these even came close to atoning for the inappropriate comment she had made.

"Ilúvatar, father in Heaven…what have I done?" she whispered, rubbing her face with her hands. "Have I hurt him so deeply that he cannot bear to be with me; is that why he has not returned? I never meant for it to…" Her voice cut off as she growled low in her throat, pulling her head out of her hands to glare out at the sky.

"You know, this is _your_ fault," she snapped, shaking her fist. "Everything could have been just _fine_ if you had not allowed this to happen to me in the _first_ place! Legolas tells me to trust you, and then I react _this_ way to those stupid dreams you keep letting me have and then I hurt him! I am _always_ hurting him. When will it stop? Why did you let this happen?" she groaned. She was silent for a full minute.

"Legolas's words," she continued, her voice soft and miserable, "his beliefs, are that you are constant, faithful, good…that I can trust you forever for everything…and everything Arwen says has always agreed with that. They trust you, and I…I know _I_ trust you… I just lose sight of what is good, what is right. I _wanted_ Legolas last night, not just because I desired him, but because I am so _tired_ of the agony and despair, that comes with dreaming of Bragolaur. How was I _supposed_ to feel? _Yes_ , I wanted him to touch me! Was that so _bad_?" She was quiet for a moment, and then she suddenly buried her face in her hands again. " _It was wrong…it was wrong, and I am so…sorry._ Father, I should never have sought that out…we have but four days until the wedding—I must have been out of my mind!"

She looked back up into the sky. "Father, you _must_ help me, please. I promise, I pledge, that I will not touch Legolas that way again or seek him to touch _me_ that way again. I know that whenever I am with him, from this point forward, I am going to be thinking about the way he touched me last night. _Please_ help me! I need you to calm this desire down. We are to be married in four days, and I want to do what is right. I want to give myself to him after we are wed.

"And because of that, I…is there any way at all that I could ask you for something?" she begged closing her eyes. " _Please_ …let me feel his love pour over me in such a way on our wedding night that I feel nothing _but_ him, that I am so sure it is him that I can enjoy every moment. Please, make it so that I am unafraid, that I can trust his every touch, every kiss, every word. _Please, I do not want to be afraid…and I do not want to hurt him_. I _want_ to marry him, _give_ myself to him in every way possible. I want Legolas to be the one I _choose_ to love and to let him love me. _Help me, Father_."

She heard footsteps among the rocks higher on the mountain and knew that Legolas was coming down. Instead of turning and looking for him, she remained where she sat—let him choose to come to her. He did, of course, and came and took a seat quietly beside her and reached out to take her hand, holding it within his own and stroking the back of it with the other. Immediately, her mind flashed backward to last night, those fingers on her spine. She swallowed and watched his hand, but she smothered the feeling of desire.

"Can we speak, Guin?" he asked softly and she nodded.

"Of course. Are you all right?"

"I…am…but that was not what I wanted to say."

"Go on," she replied gently.

"What I did last night, touching you the way that I did, was wrong," he stated. "I was so focused on what I was hoping for eventually, a time when you might be bold and unafraid, a time when we have learned one another and…" he shook his head. "I could not think. I was so overcome that I wronged you. For that I am truly sorry."

"I wronged you, too," she replied. "I was so tangled in my reaction from the dream I never thought of the repercussions of what I was asking of you. It was wrong of me, and in any other circumstance I would have realized, and remembered, that you and I were saving ourselves until marriage to each other. I am sorry, too." He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

"We need to make a promise to one another."

"Yes," she agreed. "Legolas, I promise that I will not touch you in a way that produces intense feelings of desire for me; I will not seduce you again."

He blushed. "That is a…strong word."

"But it is the truth. You are a good man, Legolas," she said gently, "and you have worried so much about compromising my honor that I gave little thought to yours. Shame on me. I pledge to you I will not tempt you again…until there is a ring on my hand and we have been wed." At any other time, she knew Legolas would have teased her or laughed, but he was totally serious. She knew that this was an important moment for both of them and he looked into her face.

"Guin, I promise you that I will not tempt you to lie with me before we are wed or touch you in a way that is desirous or luring you to stray. I pledge that I will continue to protect you from myself and from your dreams. I…even promise to stop my dreams—"

"Stop," she interrupted him. "I accept your first two pledges, but the last I will _not_ accept. Legolas, how many times have you, Aragorn, and Arwen told me that we cannot control our dreams? I _am_ glad you dream about me. I was serious when I told you that I wish I could dream about you. I love you, and I am going to share my life with you. Please do not stop dreaming about me."

He gave her a little smile. "I promise that I will wait four days until the wedding...after that, I will tempt you to the utmost of my abilities."

She smiled back. "I promise that I, too, will wait four days until the wedding. I look forward to being tempted." Looking into his face, she asked him, "Legolas, this past evening was one of the most uncomfortable of my life. I…have become so used to sharing my room with you that to have you not be there…I do not know…"

"I will remain at your side," he told her honestly, "but I will not cross the threshold of your bedroom again until I am your husband, until we are man and wife. I would consider that too much of a temptation at this time."

"You are right," she mumbled. "Every time we would see that bed I would think about it."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we can sleep on the divan? It would not be as comfortable, but at least we would have room to rest."

"Would you not prefer your own bed?" he asked and she shook her head.

"I would prefer to be with you."

He nodded. "The divan it is."

She reached up and touched his face. "I love you, Legolas. I cannot wait to share my life with you." He took her hand in his and pressed his lips over her engagement ring.

"I love you; I honor you. Shall we make our way slowly back in to town? We must find our rings today." She nodded and smiled.

"In a little while," she replied softly, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. "I want to stay here for a bit in the quiet." She hesitated, and then asked him, "Is this all right?"

"Yes," he agreed, and he gently wrapped his arm around her, holding her other hand in his.


	44. Chapter 44

"Here, now _this_ one!" laughed Éowyn handing Enguina a tied-up package. The elf rolled her eyes as Arwen, seated on the floor, leaned her back against the divan. "You will _love_ this one."

"Honestly! What did the two of you _do_?" she asked as she began untying the string around the heavy paper. "Did you buy out every seller in Minas Tirith? You did not have to do this!"

"Yes, we did," Éowyn replied. "Am I right, Arwen?"

"Éowyn _is_ right; it is tradition," Arwen added.

Enguina rolled her eyes. "No one did this for either of you."

"To be honest," Éowyn replied, "Arwen and I were fairly good friends by that time, and she did supply me with several perfect gifts at the time."

Arwen smiled. "It is tradition for the friends of the bride to throw her a party and shower her with gifts that she would not buy herself and so prepare her for married life. Obviously, you and Legolas will not be moving to Ithilien immediately, but when you do, we will bring gifts there as well."

"Just as it is tradition for the _men_ to be doing so for Legolas," Éowyn said with a little grin as she heard Enguina gasp. The elf lifted the gown from the packaging and stared at it, feeling the fabric.

"Oh Ilúvatar, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever _seen_ …" Shimmering green and flowing, the material would match her eyes and be very comfortable. "It is a bit… _low_ …is it not?" She asked, peeking around it with a light blush on her face.

Éowyn laughed gaily. "Of _course_ it is! It is as much for you as it is for Legolas! It should take his feet right out from beneath him…and land him in your bed!" She giggled and Enguina rolled her eyes again, shaking her head.

"As if he needs encouragement."

"Well, you want to make the evenings special every once in a while, do you not?" she asked innocently. "You would never buy any of these things yourself, you know."

"No, you are right," she admitted. "And I would not be thinking about something such as that right now. I am trying to think of _surviving_ my wedding night, not making myself out to be a tempting morsel."

Éowyn gaped at her, unable to laugh at what she said for worry over the _rest_ of what she had said. "What do you mean 'surviving' it? Not _enjoying_ it?" she asked in a horrified voice.

Enguina looked uncomfortable and glanced at Arwen for aid, but she was clearly not looking at her on purpose. _Very helpful, Arwen!_ "Éowyn, I… _am_ looking forward to it; I know I _will_ enjoy it…but I am…"

"Nervous? Even a bit frightened?" she asked.

Enguina blushed. "Yes."

"Do not worry!" she laughed again. "We will get to that!" She sighed. "I was afraid you were—I do not know! I could not possibly imagine you not _wanting_ Legolas! He is so handsome and good…"

"What are we getting to?" Enguina asked, distracted. Éowyn waved a hand at her and then rested it against the baby within her, wincing. Enguina reached forward, startled. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine…just rough kicking." She smiled wryly. "I am being _abused_ by this child…it is almost definitely a _boy_." Arwen laughed and Enguina smiled, her worry dissipating.

"I thought perhaps we were going to have to rush you to the Houses," she sighed. She glanced around her at all the gifts and shook her head. "You two…some of these are so expensive! This is too much!"

"We probably should have had you unwrap things at _your_ house," Éowyn said with a giggle. "Then we would not have had to carry it all over when we are done."

"How in the world will I ever decide what to wear?"

"Well, you will not be wearing any of them your wedding night," Éowyn replied, glancing at the gifts. "Though they are so lovely, Legolas is going to love them all."

"Why not?" Enguina asked, surprised. "Why would I not wear any of them?"

"A few reasons to be honest," Arwen said. "First, the wedding dress is extremely uncomfortable to get off and usually cannot be done on your own. Which means—"

"Legolas is going to have to help you take it off," interrupted Éowyn, "just as our husbands did for us. Faramir had mine off in a sum total of fifteen seconds. Though I have never asked anyone, I think that is a record." She laughed. "What about you, Arwen?"

"Oh…it was a process," she replied softly, suddenly very interested in her fingernails.

"A process? What does that mean?" Éowyn asked slyly, leaning forward and raising her eyebrows. "Do tell, Arwen."

Enguina studied her face. "Perhaps I should ask—"

"No, no," she said, lifting her eyes to her face. "I was just thinking, that is all. I only meant that the dress had to come off in stages. It was not very simple and I was…incredibly nervous. We both were." She gave Enguina a smile. "The other reason is because no matter what you have on, it is going to matter very little. Your wedding night is for the two of you to enjoy each other, and Legolas is not going to be thinking about what you are wearing."

"No, he is going to be thinking about you not wearing _anything_ ," laughed Éowyn. "So it would be a little lost on him, and a waste of your time, to attempt to wear one of these on your wedding night."

Enguina smiled while she blushed. "I…think I might agree with Arwen. A huge part of me, even more than I expected, is looking forward to giving myself to him," she said honestly, "but the other part is terrified."

"What is the part that terrifies you?" Éowyn asked softly, reaching out and taking her hands. "Is it simply fear of the unknown, because you have never been touched by a man?" Enguina's blush deepened and Éowyn thought her embarrassed by her words. "Enguina, Arwen and I were both virgins once, untouched by men." She squeezed Enguina's fingers in hers. "It is natural to be afraid in a situation like this, even when you desire it to happen."

"I… _do_ desire him," she admitted softly.

"Of course you do. In the beginning, when both of you are unsure, uncertain, everything goes slowly…not _smoothly_ , but slowly. You have to learn each other, explore each other. Let it be natural, Enguina. Do not rush your first night together." She smiled. "Sometimes I think about my first night with Faramir and I wish it _had_ been a bit longer. We were very eager for each other," she admitted. "It was wonderful, but…we are much better lovers now than we were before six years of marriage. Time makes love-making more beautiful, so just…take as long as you want." She glanced at Arwen. "Would you agree with that advice?"

"Definitely," she said softly, nodding. "I cannot say that I wish the night was longer, for our love-making lasted all night. Everything was slow; I was so…afraid. I could not speak to anyone about what to expect; I could not have spoken to my father, and I did not know anyone aside from my kin. I was essentially alone here in Minas Tirith. It all happened so fast; I arrived, and the next day we were wed, and we found ourselves walking to the King's House alone and…" She shook her head. "Aragorn knew how frightened I was, and that it was not _him_ I was afraid of," she said, looking pointedly at Enguina, "it was the act itself, and that I would not…"

"I remember what you said. That you would not please him," she replied softly. "I am not sure…I do not think that I am worried about that. I think it _is_ the act itself that is frightening to me."

"It is the letting go," Arwen whispered and Éowyn nodded, agreeing silently. "It is the thought of baring your soul that way to another, letting that person touch you, and touching them, in such an intimate way. You must…give something up to your husband, give _yourself_ up…" She hesitated and Éowyn spoke up.

"In that moment of bliss, the moments of pleasure you will experience with Legolas," she said gently, "will be when you are at your weakest. It is a moment of submission to your husband, and his submission to you, a certain… _breathlessness_ , that cannot be explained or described. Love-making is exhausting, Enguina. It takes everything you are, and everything Legolas is, and brings you together, to something that is unique and beautiful. Anything that requires you to give a part of yourself, to bare your soul to another in such a way is exhausting. There is nothing equal to it."

"It sounds so wonderful, yet…so frightening," Enguina whispered. "Were you as afraid the second time as you were the first?"

"I was not afraid of Faramir," Éowyn replied. "Remember, I was eager for him. I would say the second time we were more ready for what we were doing. We understood. Everyone knows what to _do_ when they love, but no one knows _exactly_ how to do it." She shook her head. "We figured it out after a little while." Enguina turned her head to look over to Arwen.

"You do not have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It does not; I simply need to think," she sighed. "The second time was not long after the first, and no…there was no fear of not pleasing him, not after you have already pleased each other. No, from there it can only get better."

"Does…" Enguina began, her voice a whisper, and she had to still her hands to keep from reaching for her abdomen, " _does it always hurt_?" The memory of the pain was still so strong.

Éowyn squeezed her hands again. "It _does_ hurt the first time, but it is only for a moment," she said softly. "There is no reason not to tell you, but if you are ready for it you will be fine. After those first few moments, it becomes easier. But, that is one of the reasons you should take your time. Love-making is easier if it takes a bit longer. Every once in a while it may be a bit more difficult than others, but the first time is the most difficult; I have never had any pain since the first time, and…I barely remember it now. Your body will prepare you when Legolas begins to touch you." She nodded. "Everything will be all right."

Arwen was silent, and Enguina and Éowyn both looked at her. "You are deep in thought, Arwen," Éowyn said gently. "Is there something you wanted to say? Did I miss something?"

"No, I…my experience is a little different, but…I do not know, as I have never had cause to talk to anyone about this before. Éowyn and I have never spoken about these things and I have never talked to another female about…" She shook her head. "Every time Aragorn and I are together there is… _some_ pain…sometimes worse than others."

" _Every time_?" repeated Éowyn, staring at her.

"I should not… _explain_. I would prefer not to…"

"What you say will not frighten me any more or less," Enguina stated. "Anything you can tell me will be useful, will help prepare me."

"I do not know if it is me…if it is our race…I do not _know_ , Enguina," she sighed. "There have been times when I have cried out from the pain. It is not continuous; it goes away in moments, but it happens. I…think this is me…but I do not know. Love-making for us is almost always slow," she added softly, "so it is not that I am unprepared. It simply happens. It feels like every time we are together it is the first time." She looked into Enguina's face. "But I do not believe this will happen with you; I believe you will be just fine."

"Yet you still…" Enguina shook her head. "I do not think I would want to…do something if it were to bring me pain each time. I do not think I would."

Arwen shook her head. "I cannot explain; forgive me."

Éowyn patted Enguina's hands. "Darling, when you have been with Legolas, only then will you understand. _Then_ , you can tell us if that few seconds of pain is worth it."

Arwen reached out and handed Enguina one more package. "I forgot; this is also for you." Enguina smiled and unwrapped it to uncover a simple, but flowing sky-colored dress. The fabric was light and soft, a true summer dress and Enguina marveled at how lovely it was. Éowyn reached out to touch it.

"My god, it is so simple and so striking at the same time. Feel the fabric! Arwen, were did you get this dress? I have not seen anything finer in all of Minas Tirith!"

"The fabric is from Rivendell," Arwen said, "and I made the dress myself."

"You _made_ this?" Enguina gasped. "When?"

"When you told me that you and Legolas were bound to one another," she replied as the two of them kept touching the dress. "I wanted you to have something special that you could wear the day after the wedding, or whenever you decide to appear, and it kept me busy when I was…recovering. Consider it your after-wedding dress."

"But the color—"

"I dyed the fabric myself," she added. "I wanted to make it very special."

"It _is_ ," Enguina replied, "because you _made_ this with your own hands. Oh, Ilúvatar has blessed me with two of the most wonderful friends. How can I ever thank you?"

"If I stop looking like the broad side of a barn, do you think you can make me one?" asked Éowyn, and the three of them laughed together.

"Oh Éowyn, you are beautiful!" Arwen told her, rolling her eyes. "Does Faramir not tell you enough?"

"Every morning when he sees my face and runs his hands along my belly," she laughed as well. "But I do not know if I can trust his word. He sees what he _wants_ to see. If I ever stop having children, maybe I will return to my normal size."

Enguina giggled. "Legolas wants to have twelve children."

"Really?" asked Arwen in surprise.

"He said he wants to have to feed a small army every night at dinner," she laughed as she rolled her eyes. Éowyn burst out laughing and then shook her head.

"That _sounds_ like Legolas. The next time he says such nonsense," she added, "tell him that when _he_ can bear them into the world, _that_ is when you will have twelve. Honestly, men are so…thoughtless, sometimes."

"I did not realize he was being thoughtless," Enguina said, smiling. "I thought he was simply stating he wanted many. Personally, I do not care how many as long as we have at least one. Is it difficult to bring a child into the world?"

Éowyn hesitated. "Um…imagine you are being gutted…someone is reaching inside you and making those insides _become_ your outsides. That is essentially what it is like."

"Oh, _Éowyn_ ," muttered Arwen, disgusted as she saw the look on Enguina's face.

"I was trying to answer her question!" Éowyn cried. " _And_ be honest at the same time!" She turned back to Enguina. "There were complications with Annî's birth, but honestly, people will tell you that you will not remember the pain when you see that adorable face." She shook her head. "That is _not_ true. What they mean to say is that the pain you will go through will be _worth_ it as soon as you see that little face. _That_ is the truth."

"Enguina," Arwen said, "Annî was backwards when she was born; babies are supposed to turn so that their head is first, so they can breathe, but Annî's feet were first. She could have been strangled by the cord during the rest of the birth and by the time she would have appeared, she could have died."

"Oh no," Enguina whispered, "that is awful. What happened?"

"Aragorn came and helped me, thank Eru," Éowyn said with a sigh.

Enguina shook her head. "I am amazed by the number of things Aragorn knows when he is only a man. He is as learned as an elf!"

"What Faramir discovered afterwards was that Aragorn had only ever helped a mare give birth," giggled Éowyn, "not a person. But she was in dire condition and…well, it worked!" She then smiled wistfully, rubbing her abdomen. "I shall never forget the look on his face after the last push, when the baby was in his hands." She closed her eyes and smiled, swallowing hard. "Forgive me; it brings tears to my eyes when I think of it. And then Faramir was there and we were holding Annî and stroking her bright red hair, and everything was right with the world."

Enguina sighed. "I cannot wait to have children…to see what their faces will be like, a mixture of Legolas and myself…"

"How beautiful," agreed Éowyn. "But if you are really curious, I would be more than happy to let you be there when this baby is born." Enguina's eyes widened.

"No, really?"

"Yes. I would love it if you were there," she said and Enguina smiled.

"I will think about it. Thank you, Éowyn."

"Anything to settle Faramir down!" she laughed, beginning to crumble up the discarded wrappings that were laying around Arwen's sitting room.

Enguina glanced about. "Is there anything else for me to open?"

"Ha!" Éowyn scoffed, and threw the crumpled packaging of the dress in her face.

Enguina laughed and brushed it away. "I suppose that is a no!"

Éowyn gave her a devilish smile. "I have a question for _you_ , Enguina."

"You do?" she asked with surprise, wondering where this was going.

"But I will not ask unless you _promise_ to answer… _and_ tell the truth."

She cringed. "Um…I am not sure I am willing to do that."

"Oh come on! It is not too embarrassing, I promise."

"Oh, very well. What is your question?"

"You are four days before the wedding. I know you said you were nervous about being with Legolas, but…how close have you already come to giving in to your desire for him?"

"Éowyn!" cried Arwen, reaching out to smack her. "That is so—"

"Inappropriate?" supplied Enguina. "As if the rest of the things we have been talking about are appropriate."

"I was asking because I wanted to see if she was worse than _me_ ," Éowyn laughed.

"I promised I would answer," Enguina sighed, rubbing the blush from her face. "I know you cannot answer, Arwen, because you and Aragorn never came close—"

"That was why I did not ask _her_ ," Éowyn said with a grin. "So…how close did you come to giving into the always desirable Legolas?"

Enguina raised her eyebrows at her. "Careful, Éowyn; I think I am a very jealous lover."

Éowyn laughed. "Forgive me, Enguina, but _I_ cannot help that Legolas is very handsome. He has always been desirable, and you are bound to find that he gets a lot of looks around here in Minas Tirith."

She rolled her eyes. "I noticed."

"Now, _spill_ ," Éowyn probed. "Tell me when and what happened."

Enguina sighed, low and long. "Last night." She could not look at Arwen's eyes, knowing she would not approve.

"Last—really?" Éowyn giggled. "Come now, what happened."

"I…um…Legolas and I were in the sitting room and…" She could not tell the truth, so she had to make pieces of this story up. "Well, one thing led to another and there were too many hands…too much touching and far lengthier kissing than there should have been." She blushed. "It was…hard to stop," she admitted.

"Did it just happen or did Legolas initiate?"

"Actually, _I_ did. It was my self-control that was in question."

Éowyn laughed. "And you are worried about your wedding night? Mine was the night Faramir and I bound ourselves to each other. Everyone was taking their leave from Edoras to travel to their respective homes and we had just gone out on our own to sit quietly together. I remember the night near Meduseld; the stars so bright and everything was simply right. I had wished that we could have been wed that day, when everyone was gathered, but no. Instead there were wandering hands and kissing on skin that was _not_ lips. He was _so_ carried away…and so was I, but I _had_ to stop him." She grinned. "What I did not tell him was that I was too _nervous!_ I was afraid Éomer would catch us and _kill_ him."

Enguina laughed as she looked at Arwen. "Are you going to chastise me, mother?" she teased.

Arwen shook her head. "You stopped yourselves…that is what matters. You know what is right and wrong." She sighed. "The only thing I can add to the tales you are telling is that I sat in the shadow of the wall with him, as far away from the chaos as we could get—he was the _King_ you know—and found a patch of heaven where we could study one another forever." She smiled at Enguina. "You know, you talk of wandering hands and kissing…but I would tell you of eyes and words. In the light of that dawn I was laying against his chest thinking of nothing but being with him, of giving myself to him. He touched my face and looked down into my eyes and whispered that I was the most beautiful thing in Middle-Earth, and that the light on my face was like the sun shining on his soul, bringing him out of a great darkness. That marrying me would be the beginning of his life, as though the last years and the trials and the hardships that he had to face did not matter. He said that it was only five more hours until he could give himself to me, until we were together for eternity."

" _That_ is so romantic," Éowyn sighed.

"Legolas is so good with words," Enguina said to agree. "I am so easily moved by him."

"He will move you as much as he likes once you are wed," Éowyn teased. "You know, Enguina, once you have some experience, do not be afraid to take charge. There will be times when you will desire him and it will be your idea…some of those times are the most fun. Eventually, the bedroom may become normal…and _that_ is the time to go elsewhere, to liven things up a bit."

Enguina blushed. "You mean that you…make love in other rooms?"

Éowyn chuckled and leaned forward conspiratorially, "Faramir and I have made love in _every_ room in our house." Arwen burst out laughing as Enguina's face turned bright red.

" _What?_ " she choked out and Éowyn laughed.

"Yes, every room…and several _other_ places as well." She looked thoughtful. "If I was good with time, and I may not be…I would say Annî was conceived on our dining room table." Enguina gaped at her.

"And _that_ is why we do not usually eat dinner at Faramir's house!" laughed Arwen and the three of them lost themselves to hysterical giggles.

"No, honestly," Éowyn laughed, "Faramir and I have made love in the stables, which was terribly bad because he had a reaction to the hay, and also in the Tower of Ecthelion." Enguina stared at her when she did not seem remotely remorseful. "You will see," Éowyn told her. "You will find out that not every moment you have thought to love your husband is in a perfect place. We were _caught_ in Ecthelion." Enguina gasped and she laughed suddenly. " _God_ , I will never forget the look on the poor maid's face!"

"Oh, Éowyn that is downright _awful_ ," Arwen said. "You should not be telling her such things!"

"Were you and Aragorn ever… _discovered_?" Enguina asked more boldly, gaining strength from Éowyn's remarks. "Or have you only ever been here?"

"Wherever Aragorn and I go, Enguina, there are eyes," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Faramir is the Prince of Ithilien, but they are not quite as watched as we are. That is one of the reasons why we keep our love _out_ of the public eye. Love-making is for you and Legolas, not for everyone else." She sighed. "Aragorn and I have made love in other places, but only when we knew for certain we were alone. The Anduin is one of the most beautiful, under the sycamores, the soft grass…" She drifted off, thinking.

"So you _have_ never been caught," Éowyn said with a laugh. "Well, that is no fun."

"Only once, in the first month of our marriage," she said softly. "It was awful…it was _here_ , in our own bed. It was a time when Aragorn…well, when it was painful for me. I cried out so loud the guards outside thought I was being attacked."

"Oh _Lord_!" cried Éowyn. "You were _serious_ about the pain."

"It was..." she hesitated, and then ploughed on. "The guard came running into the House and Aragorn covered us as quickly as possible. He was trying to explain the man away, holding me tight, hiding my face from them…" She shuddered. "It was terrible. I do not remember screaming; I only remember the pain, his whispered words of comfort." She shook her head. "But that was the only time we were 'found.' There has been much talk about our personal life, though. There always has been."

"Of course," sighed Éowyn, "being a public figure, I suppose that is the way your life goes." She suddenly grinned at Enguina. "Do you have any other questions we can answer?"

"Oh…I do not know," she said with a little smile and then a shake of her head. "Some things are meant to be private, are they not?"

"Yes," Éowyn replied, "and to be shared between you and Legolas only. But you _will_ enjoy marriage, Enguina. Yes, it is a sacrifice, and yes, there are times it will be difficult, a challenge. But you will enjoy every moment as long as you love one another. You have a strong love; you will make it through anything."

"Yes," Arwen agreed softly. "A very strong love."

Enguina smiled, looking at her two dear friends. "Thank you, for all of this. For giving me advice, for telling me what to expect. Without the two of you, I…I would not have the courage to love Legolas as he deserves."

"You would find a way," Éowyn told her with a smile. "You would, even though you do not think you would. Now, I think I can come up with another story or two of Faramir before we turn in for the night, do you not think?"

"Éowyn, were we not just saying some things are meant to be private?"

"We were talking about _you_ , dearest! Not _me!_ "

* * *

Loud laughter from the corner table at _The Bouncing Barrel_ was heard, but their conversation was drowned out by the volume of the rest of the patrons. It was a perfect place to celebrate, and the perfect place to hide a few inappropriate remarks made by friends. Legolas was completely enjoying himself; he had more ale than any of the others combined as it did not affect him as it did them, though he _did_ feel _something_ buzzing around in his head. Éomer was laughing with Faramir and Gimli was hefting his mug into the air as Aragorn leaned in his chair and clapped Legolas on the back comfortingly. His father had told him that tonight was for him, and he had stayed away, though he did not agree to watch Annî. The little girl was with one of the maids who was close with Faramir's family.

"In the meantime, do not _ever_ try and tease her about love-making in _public!_ " laughed Éomer. "One night, Lothíriel and I were out in the stable in Edoras with the horses, and Gamling made a joke to me about taking her to bed and I laughed and teased her about it. She was _so_ embarrassed she tossed me out with the dog in front of the fireplace!" Gimli laughed hilariously and Éomer grinned. "I apologized of course, made it up to her, and swore I would never do it again. Fastest way into a woman's heart again is to look terribly sorry and make ten thousand promises."

Legolas laughed. " _That_ I do know. What else should I avoid, since we are speaking of things that must be remembered?"

"Or forgotten!"

"Or _remembered_ to be forgotten!" chuckled Faramir.

"Make her feel special from time to time," Aragorn said. "You know this already, but sometimes we forget when we see the woman we love every day. Marriage will sometimes do that to you, so remember to make the everyday special."

"Never disappoint," Éomer said, tapping a finger on the table. "It is far better to make her angry than to disappoint her. Anger you can quell, but you cannot head off disappointment."

"You know, Legolas," Faramir said appearing fairly serious for a moment, "women are _very_ hard to read. Have you ever been near Enguina on a day when her emotions seem to have the range of Middle-Earth? If you have not yet had that delight, prepare yourself for it. One moment she will be laughing and the next—who knows?"

"Crying," sighed Éomer.

"Angry," added Aragorn.

"Trying to seduce you," finished Faramir. "Those days are _mad_. Simply _mad._ And it is not an imbalance, you know. They simply cannot help it."

"Right, so for example," Éomer interrupted. "You will say, 'darling that dress is beautiful on you.' She will blush and respond with a thank you or something equally all right. Then she might ask you about the dress she wore yesterday, and you might say, 'sorry sweetheart, I do not recall, but this one is beautiful.' Then, she gets angry, wondering why you did not notice the dress. You try to explain it away and within _seconds_ she has dissolved into tears! Terrible!"

Legolas laughed. "That is _ridiculous_." He looked at Faramir. "How many times has Éowyn done that?"

"Well, honestly, once or twice a month…usually around _that_ particular time. I am warning you, a woman can go from tears and turmoil to _terribleness_ in less than three seconds. Look out!"

"Make sure you pay attention to those times!" Gimli laughed and Legolas waved them off.

"I will, I will," he said with a laugh. "Is there any way to avoid it?"

"Stay away from her for the whole day?" suggested Aragorn with a laugh. "Arwen is a bit more balanced than Éowyn it seems, as I do not find myself in that position very often." He smiled. "More advice: do not keep secrets."

"Aragorn, I understand what you mean, but everyone keeps a secret or two, including you."

"You do not want your wife thinking that you are sneaking off at three in the morning," Faramir said. "So best to tell her! It might put ideas into their heads that something is going on _elsewhere_."

"What?" asked Legolas, confused.

"Like me, Legolas," Aragorn said softly. "Working until late at night and then being unable to arrive at a reasonable hour. It put ideas into Enguina's head that I was unfaithful to Arwen."

"You? Unfaithful? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" cried Gimli, spilling ale on the table.

"Careful, dwarf, you want to keep the rest of your beard for the wedding!" laughed Éomer.

"Oh, here is one!" exclaimed Faramir. " _Always_ go if they ask you to go somewhere and they say, 'no, it is all right, you do not have to come.' Ugh! You will never hear the end of it next time when they are saying, 'you never go with me anywhere!'"

Éomer laughed and slapped the table. "Lothíriel did that to me not even a month ago!"

"Every once in a while," Aragorn said, leaning toward Legolas, "there is this… _look_ they will get. They will be thinking of a hundred different ways to get you alone. Your wife can be _extremely_ cunning. They know what lights a fire in you after a period of time, and they will use it against you…sometimes at the most inappropriate moments." Legolas saw Faramir and Éomer nodding, and then Aragorn continued. "You will be so focused on her, you will be blind to what everyone else is saying."

"Stuttering over your words," groaned Faramir.

"Dropping things from your hands because your fingers stop functioning," added Éomer.

"Losing track of your own thoughts because you become so caught up in hers."

"It leaves you battling the urge to drag her bodily from the room to a place of semi-quiet," grumbled Faramir. "And I say semi-quiet because you are in such a hurry that nearly anywhere will do."

Legolas laughed heartily. "I take it those are the words of experience."

"You have _no idea_. Oh, and never argue with her in your bedroom…and do not go to sleep angry with one another. Work it out _before_ sleep."

"Because of the marriage bed?" asked Legolas.

"Well, yes, but, if you have consummated your marriage in every room of the house, then you simply cannot fight in your house at all!" They all laughed. "You think I tease, but eventually, it does not matter where you are when you want each other. The bed is best on the wedding night because nerves can be somewhat of a problem and it is good to make her feel comfortable."

"One of the most important expectations everyone has about the wedding night," Aragorn said softly, "is that it is going to be wonderful—"

"And it is!" laughed Éomer.

"But it might not be perfect the first time," Aragorn finished.

"Exactly," agreed Faramir.

"The first time Lothíriel and I were together," Éomer said, "I was so afraid I was going to hurt her I did not want to lay a hand on her. It was uncomfortable and confusing, and she was just as frightened as I was. I had heard that making love was painful for the woman, and the last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt my angel, to know I was the cause of it." He shook his head. " _She_ finally had to convince _me_ it was all right."

" _Does_ it… _hurt_?" asked Legolas, worry creasing his face. That was not something he was prepared for. "It _hurts_ her?"

"Thankfully, only for a moment," Éomer said with a sigh of relief, "and usually only the first time. I was thinking it was something completely awful, as if it always hurt or she would always be in pain, but…no…that was not the case."

"Éowyn and I had no serious issues," Faramir said, "no real hesitation. We were anxious to be together, and excited to discover each other." He glanced at Éomer. "Forgive me, this is your sister I am talking about."

"She is not my sister during _this_ conversation," he laughed. "She is _your_ wife!"

"So…" Legolas said, leaning his chin on his hands, worry coursing through him, "it will be painful for her. I am going to hurt her." He could picture himself, lying beside her as Aragorn had suggested and immediately having her flash to the pain—he remembered her crying out when Bragolaur had…god, he could not even _think_ it. He had _promised_ he would not hurt her…was he to break that promise, too?

"Legolas," Faramir said gently, "every woman's first time hurts a little. It is only for a few moments."

"We do not come away unscathed either," murmured Éomer. "Looking down into her face when it happens is not an easy thing. And sometimes their reaction is to dig their nails into your flesh as deeply as possible. Most of us have the scratches to prove it. Clipping nails in advance might prevent it, but it is going to happen; you cannot control… _passion_."

Aragorn watched Legolas's face and thought of the furrows of Arwen's nails that were in his back, permanent scars, signs of her passion _and_ of her pain. He thought about mentioning that Arwen was almost always in pain at first when they made love, but he did not want to make Legolas's anxiety worse. He would pray that this would not be the case with Enguina. He set his hand on the elf's arm.

"Legolas," he said softly, "Arwen will prepare her. Neither of you will be blind."

"That was what you meant by the first time being difficult."

"Yes; it is the initial moments of the…first union that bring the pain."

"Just the first time," Éomer encouraged him again. "No one's body is used to that, not even yours. It takes some time to adjust."

"Right," added Faramir, "so go slowly. _Very_ slowly, and make sure she is ready. The key is communication, Legolas."

"Something else," Aragorn said, thinking, "do not be terribly embarrassed if one or both of you suddenly begin to cry. The experience will be…emotionally moving. When you have been waiting for so long to share your life with someone, sometimes those emotions can present themselves quickly and without warning. I had…no expectations to cry as I did, and Arwen and I were both in tears several times." He was not embarrassed about admitting it, and he took a drink of his ale before saying, "I knew she was the one I was meant to spend my life with for nearly seventy years. When you wait thirty years to give yourself to the one you love after pledging yourself to one another, to _finally_ be together in the way Ilúvatar intended for His purpose…it is a long time."

"I thought waiting _two_ years was a long time, Wingfoot," mumbled Éomer, swirling the ale in his glass and shaking his head.

"I thought _one_ year was a long time," stated Faramir.

"I _know_ that five months was a long time," stated Legolas, "and there is no doubt in my mind that tears will be shed. The length of time, of love, only makes the reunion that much sweeter. I will remember that moment before the White Tower as long as I live."

The four of them sat still for a minute remembering the meeting of Aragorn and Arwen and the kiss they had shared. Faramir smiled. "Beautiful."

"Yes, well, gentlemen," added Éomer, with a mischievous grin, "do we have any _other_ useful advice for Legolas?" He had a glimmer in his eye and Legolas dropped his head in his hands.

" _Oh no…_ " he murmured.

"If none of _you_ do," continued Éomer, "I _certainly_ do. Go for the _throat_ , Legolas…one of the most sensitive places is _always_ on her throat."

Faramir burst out laughing. "The small of her back, I would say," he added thoughtfully, trying to sound extra-serious.

"Her ears," Aragorn said with a grin, "but the throat produces a similar reaction."

"How about the collarbone?" Legolas asked into his hands.

"Ho!" yelled Faramir and Éomer together, sitting back as Aragorn's eyebrows rose and Gimli thumped the table, laughing hilariously.

" _What_ was that about the collarbone?" asked Éomer.

"I do not think anyone should _know_ anything about a collarbone!" cried Faramir.

Legolas blushed. "I…said that aloud?"

"Yes, you did, indeed," Aragorn said pointedly.

"Dare we ask him?" questioned Faramir.

"Yes, we do!" cried Gimli, staring at Legolas. "Do I need to start escorting you both at night?"

"No, no," Legolas said, sighing and taking another drink. "I have learned my lesson. I think I can wait four days until there are rings on our fingers."

"Am I right? You are not even blushing!" exclaimed Éomer, grinning from ear to ear.

"I was embarrassed about it enough before," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Enguina and I have pledged ourselves to be chaste until the wedding. You need not tease me; I have berated myself enough."

"Do not judge yourself too harshly, Legolas," Faramir said, tipping his mug back and knocking it on the table. "I undressed Éowyn in my head so many times that when I actually did it, the feeling was familiar!"

Everyone laughed and Éomer said, "Since we have moved on to love-making, Legolas, you should think eventually about taking charge once in a while. A woman enjoys a man who has initiative; keep it interesting and surprise her."

"Build up to it though…the first few times should be reasonable," Faramir cautioned. "And do not be too rough."

"What are you…what do you mean?" Legolas asked with confusion.

"They _mean_ , laddie," Gimli said, clapping him on the arm, "that you need to bed her the first few times and then get out of the bedroom!"

"Too rough?"

"Yes, and never bite," added Faramir, and Legolas raised an eyebrow at him. "Never, _ever_ bite. Heaven knows that women adore kisses everywhere, and nibbles somewhere, but bites? Never."

"Never ever?" deadpanned Legolas.

" _Never_ ever."

"Are you sure? I do not think you said 'never' enough times."

"Never ever _ever_ bite," Faramir repeated, shaking his head vigorously. "Drawing blood is _not_ good, and no, I am _not_ telling the story."

"I love watching Arwen in the morning when she is still asleep," Aragorn said softly. "If you move slightly back from them, they will sneak closer to curl back into you. Sweet."

"I love it when Lothíriel does that," sighed Éomer wistfully.

Faramir grinned. "One of the best things is to hide her clothes. Then you can watch her walk all over the room looking for them in the morning!" Gimli cracked up laughing and Éomer grinned as well.

"Bathing with her is always wonderful as well," Éomer added, leaning his chin on his hand. "Think about doing that the morning after the wedding. Soap and water and skin…yes…"

"Need a cold dousing of water over there?" Aragorn asked wryly, rolling his eyes.

"I might," Éomer admitted, sighing. "I do miss her terribly, but I would never want to miss this for the world. Being here with you four is good for the soul, to laugh and spend time together and enjoy one another's company. What more could a man ask for?"

The others grinned at him, and then Legolas stood, setting down his mug. "I will get us one more round, even if it is nearly the end of this night. What do you all say?"

"Last one, though," Faramir said. "If I come home as drunk as we were a few days ago, I will have to find somewhere else to sleep."

"Arwen will take us in," laughed Éomer, "at least she seems to understand."

"You are _not_ all sleeping in my sitting room," complained Aragorn and there were groans and moans as Legolas headed for the bar. Smiling, he took a seat and handed out some coin to the barkeep.

"One last round for my friends, my good man," he said and the old man laughed.

"Havin' a good time over there, are ye?" he asked, nodding towards someone down the bar. "Good friend o' mine heard yer gettin' married in a few days; just in fer the week from the Westfold." He nodded at the table in the corner. "I'll send the drinks over in a minute; in the meantime, he gotcha a gift. Enjoy! 'S over there at the corner table."

"I…thank you," Legolas said with some surprise and confusion, but he could not very well refuse a gift. He rose and headed in that direction, assuming he would only be gone for a few moments.

He arrived at the table where there was a single empty chair and no one directly about. Yes, there were several men milling around in groups, but they were clearly not near the table for him. Even more confused, he began to turn away when he was caught by the arm and planted in the chair.

As an elf, he should have been able to respond _long_ before his butt ever landed on the seat, but he _knew_ the ale had affected him somewhat because he missed the hand. He did throw a hand up to protect himself, but it was batted aside and the figure planted itself firmly over his lap. His shock was apparent in his lack of movement.

"Welcome to my table, handsome." The figure astride him was a pretty young woman with long, curly red hair; her clothing left nothing to the imagination as the top curved down to reveal the tops of her breasts and her long skirt rode up her legs. Her hands fell against his chest as he stared at her, and she began to feel him gently. "You're strong, aren't you?"

"I…I think I have the wrong table," he stuttered out. Before he could move, she ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck. He reached for her hands and she laughed as his fingers wrapped around her wrists; she suddenly maneuvered her hips forward against him and he jolted in the chair, trying to stand up—he could not get any leverage. "I most certainly have the wrong table," he said firmly.

"Honey, aren't you the one getting married?"

"Yes," he said, staring at her as he tried to pull her hands back even as they locked around the back of his neck and clasped, "which is all the more reason to—"

"No, no, that's why I'm here," she whispered, leaning her mouth down against his ear and whispering quietly in it. "There's a room right out back…I can pleasure you all night if you like."

" _What?_ " he gasped, his brain going fuzzy. Trying desperately to understand what in the world was going on was nearly impossible; he had never had so much ale…and he never would _again_ —he _swore_ it. It _had_ to be the reason his reflexes were so dulled! Her lips pressed against the tip of his ear and sucked on the edge of it quickly; he yanked his head away, releasing her wrists and attempting to shove her face back.

"I'm here for _you_ ," she said, and he jolted in his chair again when she circled her hips on him. This time, his hands found leverage on her sides and he shoved her back, but she came right onto him, pressing her upper body to his chest and tightening her hands.

"Off, _now_ ," he said angrily, stunned that this woman would be so forceful. He tried to get up again with the same results, and began thinking about rolling the chair over. His discomfort was extreme.

"Come on, sugar," she whispered into his neck as she bent her head to his throat, "I'm excellent in bed and you look like you could use a good lay." His breath caught in his throat and he grabbed her shoulders, desperate now to get her off as her hips continued to twist in his lap.

"Enough," said Aragorn's soft but firm voice from behind her. "I think he was very clear." Legolas looked up in total relief to see him standing there, Éomer, Faramir, and Gimli off to the side nearest the wall. "Get up and leave him be."

"I was paid to pleasure this man, honey, and I don't go back on a play," she stated. Aragorn put his hand down on her shoulder.

"I insist," he stated, and this time not kindly.

"No one cares who paid you," Faramir interjected. "This is an upstanding establishment, and there are no prostitutes in Minas Tirith; not since before I was a boy. It is time for you to leave." She looked at him rather haughtily, but made no move to get up from her place astride Legolas—the elf wriggled beneath her uncomfortably, trying to shove her from him.

Aragorn's patience wore out as Legolas turned red. "Remove your hands from him or _I_ will remove them for you." His hand wrapped tightly around her arm and he attempted to tug her up from Legolas's lap even as she dragged her hands along his body. A hand grabbed Aragorn's arm from off to his right and pulled him back from her; Aragorn turned and looked at its owner.

"What's going on over here?" The man had a drunken voice but Aragorn eyed the strange newcomer, a group of three men standing behind just behind him. "Can't wait your turn, my Lord? Can't wait in line to get a piece of the broad?"

"Stay out of it," Éomer said immediately.

"I beg your pardon?" Aragorn asked, baffled by the man's words.

"Watch your tone!" hollered Gimli as Legolas's face turned crimson, the woman still on his lap. "Think about who you're talking to!"

The man sneered and wavered drunkenly, narrowing his eyes at the dwarf. "I know just who I'm talking to, _dwarf_ ," he snapped the word like a curse. Turning back to Aragorn, he rocked his hips forward a few times. "Go ahead and take her then, Elessar; take her right here! Everyone knows it's clear you never get enough of your own!"

Instant fire roared through Legolas's chest and the fury gave him purpose. The embarrassment he felt of a few moments ago was gone as he knocked the woman clear from his lap and stood as she hit the floor with an _oof!_ In fact, he did not even care to spend a thought on the woman or where she was going.

"How _dare_ you—" Legolas snapped, looking to step right around Aragorn and reach for the man. Aragorn raised a hand and it caught the center of his chest, preventing him from moving forward any further, but the man did not look away from the drunkard.

"You are drunk," Aragorn said, his voice low and angry now, "but be careful with your words."

"It is his _wife_ , the Queen, whom you slander," Legolas sneered, and he saw in the corner of his eye how Gimli's hands balled into fists; he noticed the same with Faramir. He did not have time to think about how awful the whole scene could turn before the man began speaking again.

"Ya know what?" muttered the man, sizing Aragorn up as he took a step closer. "You probably _could_ use another one on the side," the man continued. "Maybe this one'll actually take; maybe _she'll_ give you an heir. And you never know—"

"Shut your mouth!" shouted Éomer, _his_ hands balling into fists as well.

"—she'll probably please you better than some Elvish _slut_ —"

There was no one to stop Faramir as he lunged forward and hit the drunk square in the jaw with his fist and a _pop_! The drunkard dropped like a stone, falling towards the bar, but one of the three who had been standing beside him moved forward to confront Faramir. It was a half-second afterward that Éomer reached out and slugged one of the other two; the hit was solid, so hard that the man's feet lifted from the ground and he fell back onto the nearest table, flipping it onto its side and over-turning it. The last man lunged for Éomer but Gimli had already leapt for his throat, snarling like a wild-animal and swearing in dwarvish—

And within seconds the whole tavern broke out into a fight—the boisterous evening they had been having had become an intense, angry brawl. Men leapt up from the bar in defense of the King at the companions of the drunk who were trying to get to their comrades, lying on the floor being pummeled. The barkeep started yelling as well, and several other men joined the fray to stop the others.

"No, _wait_! Gimli!" cried Legolas, trying to reach out and pull him back.

"Stop! _Stop_ , Faramir! _Éomer_!" Aragorn hollered. He and Legolas tried to wade into the sea of people to grab several of the men and pull them back, but it was extremely difficult to force their way through to yank their friends out.

* * *

Breaking up the fight took at least five minutes, and even _afterwards_ when the men were being escorted from the tavern, they were yelling and snarling at each other; the five friends were included in those escorted out, but they would have departed anyway.

"It's true what he said!" growled another man once they got out the door.

"Shut it!" yelled Gimli, shoving the men out into the street, even as Legolas grabbed his arms to hold him back. The dwarf was yanking on him, his feet coming off the ground. "Shut yer—"

"That's right," replied another, nudging his friend down the street and away from Gimli. "No Elvish whore's going to be able to bear him a kid—"

Éomer lunged forward, snarling and grasping for the two of men who were all that was left of the five who had come to join in. Aragorn grabbed Éomer's shoulder and Faramir took hold of his upper arm on the right side, preventing him from hitting the man again. " _Say it again_!" snarled Éomer, dragging the two of them forward onto the street as he tried to get the others. " _Say it again and so help me, Ilúvatar! I'll kill—_ "

"Éomer!" snapped Aragorn as the two men scuttled off like roaches in the face of the Rohirric King's fury. "This is _not_ helping!" Éomer shook the two of them loose, breathing hard, and watching as Legolas also released Gimli. The five of them stood, unmoving, before the tavern, Éomer staring down the street with angry eyes.

It was Faramir who sighed first, reaching up to touch his own head, which had been bumped from a table and was bleeding from a cut on the right side of his forehead; Gimli's tunic was soaked from someone splashing their ale all down his front and he was adjusting his jaw that had clearly been hit; and though Éomer had been in the middle of the brawl, he and Legolas simply looked as though their tunics needed to be straightened.

"What a mess," Legolas said softly.

"I'll say," grumbled Gimli, staring at Aragorn who turned towards Faramir.

"Let me look at that," he said, reaching his hands up to turn the man's head.

"What _happened_ over there?" Faramir asked, his eyes darting to Legolas. Éomer remained standing straight as an oak, clearly fuming.

Legolas blushed and looked away guiltily. "The barkeep told me someone had brought me a gift and left it at the corner table. I did not understand what was happening, and when I arrived that...that—"

"Lady of the night?" supplied Faramir.

"Yes…she shoved me into the chair and I could _not_ get her off. She must have thought I wanted her to…ugh," he said in disgust, shaking his head at the memory of her on his lap. He shuddered. "It was _awful_."

"It is not bad," Aragorn murmured to Faramir. "You should go home and make sure it is cleaned and then get some rest. You hit that fairly hard against the table."

Legolas opened his mouth and then closed it; what could he say? Was there anything to be said? That man had made him so angry… _everyone_ so angry. For him to say those things about Arwen—

"Why did you not defend her?" asked Éomer suddenly, turning to Aragorn. "Why did _you_ not hit that man? You could have had him thrown in the stocks for slandering her like that."

Aragorn turned to him and shook his head. "Éomer, throw one man in prison today, throw fifteen tomorrow. You cannot stop the speech of drunk men," he said softly, "no matter what it makes you feel. It does not help the situation to want to hurt them; in fact, it only fuels their disdain." He gave him a tired smile. "I do appreciate you, all of you, for defending her, but…you should not have fought them."

"We shouldn't have?" asked Gimli, crossing his arms. "If we don't, who will?"

"Drunkards barely know what they speak," Legolas said softly, and Éomer shook his head.

"No, drunkards speak whatever they think aloud because they have loose lips; they know what they say," Éomer said firmly. "They meant that to wound, both you and her."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed, "I will not naysay you. But to even acknowledge their remarks is to let them gain ground. They are wrong…and they always _will_ be wrong. But, let us not…dwell on this. Let us not ruin the night with talk of untruths. Let us try and focus on the good."

It was clear that no one wanted to let it go so easily, but Legolas especially could clearly see that Aragorn wanted them to stop speaking of it. He would not speak of it again. It was also clear that it was weighing heavily on him now, even though he wanted them to move on.

"I am sorry the night ended this way," Legolas said softly. "I wish I had not gone to that table."

"It's not your fault, laddie," Gimli said. "It's a shame that some men need to act how they look."

"Like horses' asses?" asked Faramir as the five of them began to walk. No one laughed.

"Indeed," replied Éomer, sighing. "Well, at least we got some good ale in before we were…forced to leave the establishment. Think the ladies are finished as well?"

"Of course!" Faramir said with a laugh. "Éowyn will already be in bed, guaranteed. She will have been exhausted by the time they got her there. She cannot stay up late with the baby."

"I suppose we should turn in; call it a night," said Gimli. "It's late enough."

"Some of us have a meeting with the council in the morning," Faramir groaned and Aragorn nodded. "Éomer, will you stay with your sister tomorrow? She could use some help with Annî." He shook his head. "I…even though the Healers think this babe is not coming soon, _I_ do. I want her to take it easy."

He nodded. "Of course."

No matter what conversation was had after that; Legolas had been right. The night was tainted by the last incident with both the tavern woman _and_ the fight.


	45. Chapter 45

Author's Note: The lyrics here are from the Bible, Psalm 139. I do not own them, nor did I write them! :O)

* * *

Aragorn slipped into the House, remembering to move quietly enough that he did not wake Arwen. There was a candle burning on the front table, but the rest of the House was quiet; she was asleep, thankfully. If she woke, she would ask him, and he was not ready to answer. He pulled his boots off at the door and padded barefoot through the sitting room, pausing for a moment near the open bedroom door. He did not look in, but he knew she was lying there. He could smell her in the air moving through the House, could hear the breeze moving her hair across the pillow from even this distance…and then her soft breathing, lost in sleep.

He _knew_ her. She was lying on her left side, her head turned towards his pillow as she always was when he was not there, her arm extended, her hand resting on the sheet as if waiting for his warmth, her blue eyes cloudy with sleep, the moonlight shining through the window and breaking over the back of her beautiful head. After seven years of marriage, there was nothing he did not know about the way she slept, the way she moved, how she tucked her hair behind her ear, walked in bare feet, ran through the grass in a meadow, swam naked in the Anduin, or the way her hair blew in the wind as she rode bareback under a morning sunrise, the gentle curve of her lips right before they broke into a smile, the eyes that read his thoughts before they were spoken, the hands that laid against his chest to pull her ever closer to him. Oh yes…he _knew_ her.

The supposed pause grew longer, and he leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom then, his heart clenching simply by looking on her face, even from this distance. The silence in the House was deafening; he could feel it echoing in his heart as he studied her face for a long time. Oh, the pain she had been through… _they_ had been through…that man's _words_ about her… His fists clenched and he swallowed hard, turning away and moving outside onto the porch.

He rested his hands on the balcony rail, staring out into the night with a wretched soul. Éomer was right in everything he had said— _he_ should have reached forward and torn the man's tongue out and then his throat. For anyone to slander his wife, his precious Arwen, with such words _was_ incomprehensible. Drinking loosened the tongue to say what was in the heart; Aragorn knew this to be true. How could they think those things of her? She was so pure! _Slut…an Elven Whore_ … He lowered his head to his hands and rubbed his brow. How dare they! These men, who knew _nothing_ of her! His treasure, his beloved. These very thoughts brought him back to the _Council_.

The _council_ that had tried to crush their hearts a little over a year ago…and had nearly destroyed their marriage. Did they not think that the King and Queen wanted a child as much as they had wanted them to produce one? There was nothing that Arwen had desired more than to be with child and Aragorn knew that it was hard for her to bear the thought of knowing constantly that she was not, to have it pressed onto her, have her nearly shamed by them because of it. In the beginning, they had never spoken of it except in jest of a number; Aragorn had not been plagued by doubts and neither had she…and then the _council_ had… His fingers tightened as though he could wring their necks all at once. Then, after the _council_ , they had _many_ heart-wrenching conversations about it. To think that he would have a mistress to produce a child— _despicable_! As if a man who loved his wife, be he King or peasant, would choose another!

Nothing mattered more in the world to him than Arwen and her beautiful heart. It pained him deeply when he heard talk of men who believed the superstition: that the reason Arwen was not with child was because she had been promiscuous as a young woman. It was an abomination to hear of someone thinking that of her; he had taken one of the councilmen to the wall for hinting at it a few years ago... Shameful, deceitful men of the council. He had grown ashamed of most of them the longer he got to know them, and that was only growing worse. The rumors would begin and spread with them, of course. That year ago they had been trying to convince him to take a mistress...as the Kings of Old had done. He had _exploded_ upon them; he would have broken the table with his ferocity if he could have. That had not stopped them from taking matters into their own hands, and then _Faramir_ had gotten involved and hit someone…

Oh, shame on those men! Did they not understand how badly they wanted a child? Their grief at the loss? Their despair? The despair Arwen still felt at night sometimes, the _guilt_ as she knew how difficult it was for elves to bear children to begin with? He lowered himself to his knees and lifted his head to stare out into the night, trying to pretend the man's words were never spoken…but he could not shove them away or bury them deep. Resting his forehead on his hands he breathed out his grief, his confusion, his hurt…and sought the One, murmuring words that had always brought him comfort.

 _O Lord, you have searched me and you know me._

 _You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar._

 _You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways._

 _Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord._

 _You hem me in—behind and before—you have laid your hand upon me_

 _Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain._

 _Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?_

 _If I go up to the Heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths you are there._

 _If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,_

 _Even there your hand will guide me; your right hand will hold me fast._

 _If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,"_

 _Even the darkness will not be dark to you;_

 _The night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you._

 _Search me, O Father, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts_

 _See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting._

 _Father! Father? Are you listening? Are you there? Do you hear me, see me here? Lord, I_ am _hurting. That man said those words of Arwen tonight, and I am frightened, Father. Will those memories return? Will the council once more take up the battlefield of an heir? You know how deeply Arwen and I grieve, how deeply we are hurt by the loss of…by the loss of our babe. Is it that we are not ready? Are you waiting for some perfect time that I know nothing about? Has she not suffered and endured their ridicule long enough; is that once not enough? I have fought them to keep her; I have fought them to protect her and her heart…and my own. Please, let their thoughts, these rumors they spread, no longer hurt her, and let them no longer haunt me. It is a burden I cannot bear, Father. I do not desire to have children, as the council so believes…I desire to have children with_ _ **Arwen**_ _. Oh, Ilúvatar, there is such a difference! When will the time be right?_

 _I grow older, and though Arwen does not age as a mortal, she is still mortal. Child-birth is difficult enough for a woman, more difficult for an elf, and it was difficult for her to conceive the first time. Is this why you wait? I desire to have children with her…to be able to have a family, as Éowyn and Faramir. To lift a child in my arms that is my own and see the reflection of Arwen in their eyes, to look over at that rocking horse in the corner and see a smiling face, to wake in the morning to see Arwen sitting in the chair nursing the child and to come and simply sit with her, watch her, hold them both._

 _Oh, why is it that you wait? Why do you withhold this pleasure from both of us? Why do you withhold the joy of a daughter or son? Are we to lose this one as well? Oh, Father, please say no to that, but in some way, hear my prayer and answer me. Help us, Ilúvatar…give us the strength to bear this burden until you believe we are ready. Save us with your grace. I…know not why you are waiting, but I remain your servant. Transform our hearts to continue to seek your will, and wait in your time. Grant us the peace in you to be able to find your blessing in the waiting._

Aragorn let out a gentle sigh and pulled himself to his feet. He returned to the House, to the bedroom, and changed slowly in the utter silence. Then on to bed, his heart still lost somewhere between prayer and thought. Arwen had moved in her sleep, which was strange to him, since she normally did not. She was now lying on her stomach, though facing him still, her hand remaining out on his side of the bed. He reached out and slid it closer to her, but as he lifted the covers and slid into bed himself, he trailed his hand gently along her arm.

He felt every pore under his fingertips but instead of stopping at her shoulder, he ran it across her back, moving it gently in a massaging motion, studying the reaction of her skin to his touch. The low-cut nightdress allowed him access to most of her spine, and he trailed along it, feeling every part that he had memorized. He knew where it would curve and where it would be straight and at what point he would find her shoulder blade and whether her arm was up or down on her left side. He _knew_ her…better than he knew himself. He adored her, loved her, and cherished her.

Aragorn laid his head on the pillow and watched his own fingertips run along that graceful spine to her neck. The moonlight lit the room so well tonight that he could see very well, and he watched as little goose bumps appeared all over her skin; it must have been a full moon in order to see them. He kept gently tracing the vertebrae of her spine, his eyes following the curve of her back up her skull, lowering along her temple and ears and across to her eyes…which were open and _clear_. Arwen was very much awake…who knew for how long?

At first, she said nothing, simply met his eyes and looked at him intently; he could tell that her eyes were reading him, taking in the moment and sensing everything she could from him. She was very much feeling every movement of his fingers roving along her back and neck, but she could see there was something behind his eyes, something that said he was not trying to arouse her. Something was troubling him; he was lost in his own mind, touching her rather thoughtlessly.

She lifted her hand and slid it up along his cheek, taking her fingernails and tickling his beard gently. "What is it, beloved?" she asked, her voice tender.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes moving from hers back to his hand trailing along her spine. "I did not mean to wake you," he whispered. "How was your evening with Enguina?"

No answer was not good enough for her. "Do not do that," she replied. "I can feel that you are troubled. Your eyes, your heart…they do not lie." She lay her hand against his chest. "Tell me."

He was closed off from her; there was a tight lid on the feelings he was attempting to hide. "Arwen…" he warned her softly, and he gave his head a single shake again, "it is—"

"Nothing?" she asked, fingering his beard with the edges of her nails again. It was soothing to him; it always had been. His eyes closed as he sighed. "Something has happened. Tell me the truth."

Her encouragement made something slip aside within him and he slowly murmured, "I love you." It came out through his lips as though he had been thinking about it for hours. "I love you, Arwen."

"I know," she responded gently, stroking his face again. "I love you, too." She was confused, knowing that if he _was_ going to tell her what was bothering him it was going to take some time to come out. She wondered if he had been lying here for an hour and had woken in a nightmare…but then she thought no, for she would have felt that within him and woken immediately, as he did with her. She hesitated, wondering how much she should urge him to tell her the truth. "Beloved," she whispered, and he opened his eyes to look into hers.

"May I hold you tonight?" he asked, and the soft-spoken request was so sudden that she simply looked at him for a moment before responding. A lump formed in her throat and she could not swallow around it; men complained that women were difficult to read, but really, a woman's struggles were relatively easy to decipher. Aragorn…if there was something troubling him, he would keep it close to himself and say nothing unless she dragged it out of him. She was worried; he was aching.

Turning a bit, Arwen slid across the sheets to curl up against his body, flattening herself against him, tucking herself tightly against his chest, her right arm wrapping around his back. He rested his head atop hers, his fingers still wandering along her spine. What could have caused him such distress? Had Legolas said something? Faramir? Éomer? Gimli? Her heart flooded with worry and questions. How could she discover the truth?

"I will love you forever, Arwen…" he whispered into her ear, "no matter—"

He caught himself before he finished them, but the words had slipped from his mouth in enough time to make her realize what it was that he had been thinking about. Her hand tightened on his back and he felt her breath catch; she heard him curse himself softly under his breath, but it was so close to her head that she heard him anyway.

She remembered very clearly the last time those words were spoken to her, and a shudder of pain came with the memory. Pressing her face more deeply into his chest, she whispered, "Is that what distresses you so tonight? Is that what hurts you, beloved?"

"Ilúvatar, forgive me," he mumbled, and he closed his eyes as her pain washed over him and mingled with his own. "Forgive me…" How could he be so _stupid_ , to say those words…

"There is nothing to forgive."

But he could hear her heart racing; he knew the damage those words had done, the place they had returned her to; he could feel her hand slowly take hold of the back of his tunic. "I should never have—"

"I wanted to know what was troubling you…tell me."

He hesitated to tell her; he should probably _not_ tell her. "Have I not hurt you enough with my words already tonight?" he asked.

"It is not your words that bring the hurt," she whispered. "It is the memory that follows them."

"A…drunk slandered you at the tavern," he replied, and she could hear how upset he was by that. "I…should have had the man thrown in prison for the things he said, but…Faramir began a brawl when he hit him and soon Éomer and Gimli were involved in the fisticuffs as well." He sighed, long and slow. "Éomer was angry that I had not leapt down the man's throat, that I had not fought to defend your honor." She heard the guilt in his voice. "I…wanted to _choke_ him…I—"

'I am glad you did not fight him," she whispered. She did not even need to ask what had been said; she knew well enough already the things that had been said and spread by the council: that she was barren now, that she was a whore only good for one thing and that one thing was not children, that because she was an elf she was not able to please him…yes, she had heard them all. "Estel, what would it have looked like if you had hit him?"

He sighed, and tangled and untangled his fingers in her hair. "That I was a firebrand who could not control his temper. That the King of Gondor did not know how to solve things peaceably. That I would confirm what he had said about you was probably true…which it most certainly was not."

"Yes," she said. "It would have made nothing better."

"That was what I said to Éomer, but…it made me feel weak when I said it," he murmured bitterly. "Arwen, your heart is the most precious thing in the world to me; I would defend you with my last breath to spare you pain."

" _You are not weak_ ," she whispered firmly. "AndI am glad you did not fight," she said again. Then she fell silent, pressing herself even more deeply into him, her body feeling chilled now in the breeze from the window. "You are the strongest, most patient and loving man I have ever known. That is what makes you such a good king, and a good man."

"Oh Arwen," he whispered, "we have long been thinking about the past these six months since…" he breathed out, unable to finish and pressed his lips to her hair. "Perhaps we should begin looking to the future."

He felt her hesitate, her breath hitch before he spoke. "I _want_ to look to the future," she said weakly, "but I am afraid. I am always thinking what…what if…"

"There is a better question," he said, his arm tightening around her, the tracing of her spine halting altogether. "The question I continue to ask is why…why this is not Ilúvatar's time. We are ready; we were ready before, and we are ready now. Yet…"

"I try to ask that question, only I…keep coming back to my own."

"Do not," he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair again.

"Yours is not such a terrible question," she stated, pain in her voice, "mine simply _hurts_."

"That is because you are trying to lay blame," he told her gently, "and you must stop. Always you seek to lay fault at your own feet; you need to get past that."

She tried to laugh, but it covered over a sob. " _I_ am an elf…if it takes me three hundred years to bear you a child where does that leave you?"

"Stop this," he said, his voice full of compassion. "We knew this might not be easy, yet we still chose this path; we knew long before we were wed, Arwen. You are not to blame…it is simply…it is not _time_ , Arwen. We must wait for Ilúvatar's time." He felt her tears making the front of his tunic wet and her pain wash over him again, her physical and emotional anguish that demonstrated how much she blamed herself for _everything_ …from the first trouble with the council, to the miscarrying of the child, to this very moment where Aragon had been the troubled one. "I did not want to reopen these wounds, Arwen," he whispered. "I pray for you unceasingly…I ache when you hurt."

She tried to stop the tears, but she never knew how once they had begun. "What do you pray for?" she murmured. "What do you pray, Estel?"

"That you would find peace in me…that you could stop blaming yourself…that you would continue to trust Ilúvatar for his strength, for his control in every situation."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I hate to question him. I _want_ to have faith, to trust him…but I cannot _help_ but question. When? _When?_ " His arms tightened around her and again, he pressed his lips to her head. "It is so… _hard._ "

"I wish I knew."

She was silent for a moment, and he knew she was trying to regain some control. He reached up and tangled and untangled his fingers from her hair several times. Her voice was soft and tight when she whispered, "I keep thinking of Legolas and Enguina. Éowyn spoke to Enguina about children tonight and invited her to sit in on the birth of their new child. She and Legolas are thinking about children of course, but I…cannot help but think of everything that…I hope that…" she stumbled over the words. "I have been praying _so hard_ for them. That their burden would be easy when it comes to this, when it comes to love-making, when it comes to marriage…they have struggled so much already with Enguina's past. I want their love to be so easy it is natural. No pain, no struggle…nothing."

"I ask the same."

"Do you remember," she whispered, "that day near the Anduin when you said to me that you did not bring me there to have a child?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes…when the night is darkest," she continued, "I worry that one day, I will be so focused on bearing you a child that I will lose sight of the reason for my making love with you…that it will be because I want something _else_ , not because I am loving you." He felt her body shudder and felt her fingers tighten on his tunic again. "I never want that to happen…not ever. I want every time we are together to be for love, not an expectation for something else, for a child."

He stroked the back of her head. "We need to be careful about our thoughts," he told her. "We need to be sure that our love is first…and everything else comes second." He smiled suddenly and then used his thumb to draw her chin out of his chest so he could look into her face, wiping the skin beneath her eyes from her tears. "Every time I make love with you, it is about loving you. Every time is about giving you pleasure, and showing you how much I love you with more than words, but with my hands, and my body, and my mouth."

She trembled suddenly, looking in his eyes as her body flushed with heat. "It is true…last night had nothing to do with bearing a child."

He gave her a crooked little grin, and his fingers found her ear. He watched her swallow as he rubbed the tip between his fingers, and her eyes fluttered closed. "I forgot about last night."

"That is because," she murmured back, her voice low, "you wanted to pretend you did not collapse onto the floor."

"My shoulder did not last as long as I hoped it would," he chuckled.

"Beloved, the wall was supposed to be used as an _aid_ ," she said, kissing his chin while releasing her grip on his tunic and splaying her fingers along his back. "Instead, my back is sore tonight, and," her breath left her in a sigh, " _you have no idea what that does to me._ " He could feel her fingers begin to tremble and he smiled.

"Yes, I most certainly do," he said tenderly, and then continued in a soft voice, "At least I did not drop you on the floor. Is your back all that is sore, my love? I would have been easier last night with less pain on your part."

"It _was_ painful," she whispered, a little ashamed, but she kissed his chin again. "Did you warn Legolas?"

"Not specifically," he said softly. "I did not…think it appropriate to discuss some of the difficulties we have had in front of others. Did you talk to Enguina?"

She nodded as his hand moved back into her hair from her ear and she breathed a sigh of relief as the tension that had begun in her shoulders released. "I cannot help my body," she whispered, "but at least it usually only lasts a moment. Enguina is afraid of the pain; how could I possibly describe it to her, to explain it somehow? Bragolaur…hurt her so terribly, and she is afraid to feel that pain again, but she will _not_ …not _that_ pain. Legolas would never…"

"No," Aragorn agreed, "he would not. He _is_ upset that it will hurt her. He is worried about her, just as I was with you…just as I _am_." He touched his forehead to hers, murmuring tenderly, "Do you remember that first night? The first time we made love?"

"Impossible to forget…" she said in a low voice, "the first time I gave you all of me, and you gave me all of you…" She swallowed. "The way you loved me that night…" He pressed his lips to hers and she smiled into his mouth. "I do not think I could love you like that tonight."

He looked into her eyes. "I would not ask you…not after last night. Some moments are meant to be…savored, treasured…reflected upon." He smiled. "Last night was a bit of a strain on both of us."

"I am praying Enguina is _nothing_ like me," she sighed softly. "By Elbereth, the only thing I will be thinking about all night after they leave their celebration is _them_. I will _never_ sleep that night."

"Mmm…we can put your sleeplessness to good use." He kissed her forehead and she laughed and pressed her lips to his throat. He was silent for a moment, and then he murmured, his voice low and serious, "Arwen, are we all right?"

"Yes, beloved," she whispered, "though there will be other days when we will not be so. But…I know that your peace and love, and Ilúvatar's goodness will keep me alive and…looking forward. Are you, my love? Will you be all right?"

He looked into her eyes. "I trust Ilúvatar," he answered, "and I have _you_ , my lovely one, and that is all I have ever needed." He kissed her gently. "It would be my delight if you would remain in my arms tonight."

She snuggled in against his chest. "I love you, Aragorn," she whispered.

* * *

Legolas meandered towards the guesthouse, finally arriving and making his way inside. As quietly as possible, he slipped into the sitting room where he found Enguina stretched out on the divan, tucked into the cushions in the back. He stood silently by and watched her sleep. She had left him space to lie down beside her when he came in. Eventually, he was distracted by the clothes lying about, his gaze drawn by the moonlight shimmering along the Elvish dresses and lovely things they had given her to start her life anew as his wife.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly jumped when Enguina's hand touched him, her fingers just brushing his before she took his hand. Turning his head, he looked down into her face.

"You are here," she said, blinking. "Come lie beside me."

He obeyed without a thought, stretching out alongside her, though she did not bring herself against him immediately. Instead, she looked into his face and reached up with one hand to run her fingers through his hair.

"I…have never seen your hair this way," she whispered, feeling it between her fingers. His hair was wet, combed back from his face by his fingers only and not held back. It had been simply falling to his shoulders before he had lain down; he had not thought she had noticed. He blushed as he thought of the reason for it. "You bathed in the middle of the night?" There was confusion in her voice.

"I…needed to."

She thought about that response, and then touched his face. "What is the matter? You are so quiet. I expected you to be…more jovial upon your return since you were out among friends. How was the evening?"

How to answer? "It was…in many ways wonderful…and in many ways not." There was no way he could tell an untruth; not this close to her face as she stared right into his eyes. He would never have been able to do it.

"Something happened," she said somewhat firmly. "Something that has upset you."

"Several things upset me, Guin," he muttered. "Where in the world do I begin?"

"Why did you have to bathe? Begin there."

He let out a breath very slowly. "A woman at the tavern…someone bought her for me."

She lifted her head, a look of confusion all over her face. "What…what does that mean? It is bad, is it not? Something very bad?"

"She was a…harlot," he murmured, and she could tell how embarrassed he was. "A man near the bar had a gift for me over at the corner table; I did not _know…_ I went there and she…accosted me. It was terrible, and I am ashamed of it."

"A woman who…" she whispered, confused, "a _harlot_? What is a harlot, Legolas?" She shook her head. "I am so sorry…when it comes to these things I know so little."

He did not want to use the word _whore_ ; he had heard it enough tonight, even if it were true in this case. "A harlot," he explained softly as she stroked his wet hair, "is a woman who lays with men for money."

Her mouth fell open. " _What_? For… _money_? And this woman was—"

"Bought for me, yes," he said with great discomfiture. "She was…she was all _over_ me, touching me inappropriately." He shuddered. "I _had_ to bathe. If you had any idea how she was…I felt so unclean."

Her eyes darkened. "Be glad I was not there," she replied, her voice tight. "I would have taken her hands off at the wrists for touching you, never mind what I am imagining." He looked into her eyes with surprise. "I am a very jealous lover, Legolas; I know that now. I feel it sometimes when I see women in Minas Tirith admire you." She shook her head. "You are mine, and no one else's." She looked a bit sheepish. "Well, I suppose you are not mine yet."

"No," he whispered, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her ring finger, "I am in pledge, and that is sacred enough. I would never betray you; I was so…appalled."

"I cannot imagine someone who would…sell themselves in that way. I thought it was sacred," she asked horrified. "I knew that some people take it from whoever they want, but…to _sell_ it?"

"Yes, there are some women who will, and men who will pay anything to get it," he said softly. "It is sad…even despicable. But it was awful; the worst feeling of being trapped I had ever felt. I cannot imagine anyone _touching_ me that way…anyone but you."

She stroked his cheek again. "How did you get away from her?"

"Aragorn tried to stop her, but…everything went wrong from there," he said sighing miserably. "A drunkard thought Aragorn was trying to take her for himself and then he…slandered Arwen. It was terrible; the entire ale-house became a brawl within three seconds. Faramir hit the man, Éomer hit someone so hard he nearly broke a table, and Gimli was pounding someone else. Aragorn and I were trying to break everything up and prevent anyone from getting hurt." He shook his head. "It was not a pretty sight, nor a good ending to the evening."

"What…what did they say about her?" she asked softly. "Not that nonsense from the council."

"The same," he said sadly, and she made a hissing sound.

" _Eärendil armar_ ," she snapped, "that _infuriates_ me. They do not _know_ her, yet they do not cease to condemn her! How _hard_ the world of men can be! How unfair to mistreat the fairest and purest of our race since the days of Lúthien. _Shame_ on them."

He smiled. "You feel very passionately about them."

"No, about _her_ ," she said stubbornly, as he brushed his lips to her forehead. "She was, at one time, the person I loved best in all the world. Now, of course, she is second to you. I remember clearly what that man said to her that day; it makes me sick to even think about how hurt she was, how beaten down by his words. I hope Aragorn does not tell her tonight."

"He will tell her," he replied softly. "He has no secrets from her; what hurts him pains them both, _moina_. She can see it in his eyes…just as you knew there was something the matter tonight."

She fingered his hair again. "Your hair is drying now," she said softly, and he gave her a little smile, which then faded. "You remembered something else."

"I…Éomer and Faramir spent a great deal of time telling me hundreds of things to remember and to do and… _not_ to do." He sighed. "They were very amusing for a great deal of time."

"Then what is the matter?"

He lifted a hand and slipped his fingers into her hair, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "They all said some things that…well…" he murmured, glancing down and then looking back into her eyes. "I am excited for many reasons about marrying you, yet I am…also terrified about many things."

"Arwen and Éowyn said many things as well, some that frighten me," she admitted honestly. "But is that not what you said, Legolas? 'If we are afraid, then we will be afraid together.'"

"I…did not expect to _be_ afraid," he whispered.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked him. "Tell me, my Prince."

He nearly smiled at the endearment, but he found he could barely do it. "Guin, the last thing in the world that I want, that I could bear, would be to hurt you," he murmured tenderly. "In any way."

"I know," she replied gently, and he realized that she must have known exactly what he meant. "We will…we will find a way to make this easier." She gave him a tentative smile. "I know you are sure to have some thoughts on that."

His surprise was clear. "You are _easier_ about this than I thought you would be."

She smiled for certain then and tried to tease him. "Do not tell me that now _I_ am looking more forward to our wedding night than you?" He blushed and that gave him away immediately. "Oh, Legolas…do not _worry_ about that," she said, her voice dropping low. "You and I are going to be fine, good… _wonderful_ even."

He could not help it; her attempt to lighten the mood, to tease him did nothing to ease him at all. In fact, it made him more anxious. "Enguina, they…every one of them said that I will hurt you." His voice was so quiet she had to strain her ears to hear him. "It is not a possibility…it is a _certainty_."

"I know," she replied again, agreeing with him. "Arwen and Éowyn said so as well."

"I _cannot_ hurt you. Not like _that_." His face was so grieved she wanted to break down into tears.

"Legolas," she whispered, "it…it will not be so bad…not that bad… Éowyn said it lasts but a moment—"

"Even so," he whispered painfully. "I stared at you before you woke…looking around at this room, at these gifts, at _you_ …and I cannot…I cannot stop thinking of your…your _agony_. You were in such pain…how could I…I thought it was because he…how could I _ever_ …"

He could not finish a sentence, he was so distraught, and she visibly flinched as he spoke the words. She had somehow prayed that he had not seen what Bragolaur had forced him to witness as he was tied to that tree in the clearing. They had never spoken of what he had actually seen, experienced there, and she had held out hope that he had not truly _seen_ what Bragolaur had tried to do…what he had done. Now she knew for certain—he _had_ seen everything.

Even as tears filled her eyes, she pressed her fingers to his lips and shook her head. "Y-you could _never_ hurt me like that," she said, and the tears slipped out. "You are _not_ him. You would never _ever_ …do not say things like that."

"I am afraid now," he said, his own eyes growing wet, and she laid both hands on his face and looked into his eyes. "I was not afraid before…not of that…I did not _know_ …"

"I am frightened, too," she said softly, but then her voice became firm as she repeated Arwen's words, "but not of _you._ No, I love you and I desire you. I want to be with you more than anything, just as you wish to be with me. This is _right_ and we will make it right, together, you and me. This is not a discussion. You will _not_ be afraid of hurting me."

"Guin—"

"You will stop thinking down this destructive path," she whispered. "We are going to be fine and wonderful, and the two of us will figure this out together."

"You are making promises that you cannot possibly know are true," he replied. "What if—"

" _No,_ " she said firmly, "what if _nothing_. We have been cautioned…we know to be careful, they did us that grace. Let it _be_ , Legolas…and stop worrying." She suddenly smiled and rubbed her thumbs on his cheeks. "I have never known you would worry so for me. You are…the most wonderful man. To think that I ever thought, that I ever wanted, to be alone for the rest of my days…Ilúvatar, I must have been out of my mind."

"My _overprotectiveness_ again," he said softly, trying to let the thoughts of the evening go.

"It will annoy me at some time in the future I am sure, but…these past months I have been so grateful for it that I cannot imagine living without it; I cannot imagine you any other way than what you are." She gave a long sigh. "I love you… _so much_ ," she began, and he saw tears fill her eyes again. "Every terrible or wonderful thing that has happened has led me to this path to walk with _you_. To think that if I had simply gone to Valinor, to know that if I had not come here to see Arwen, that if I had not been pressed to trust you, if my heart had not been moved by your love and goodness and tenderness…my life would be so _empty_. _Oh, Legolas…_ "

He kissed her then, slow and long, thinking of his love for her, how long they both had waited in their lives to find the other. He felt her slip her hand beneath his arm and around his back, drawing him into her so that she could press herself against him. Winding his hand into her hair, he held her mouth to his, deepening the kiss, but gently, not forcefully…but it did not matter. It was so full of passion her _toes_ curled up, and she wound her bare foot between his, pulling herself even more tightly to him, pressing into him and then she was falling—

 _THUMP!_ She landed on top of him, his back hitting the floor beside the divan, her foot still entwined with his. Momentarily stunned, Legolas lay there, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his other somewhere near her ribs, her left hand now on his chest, her right arm beneath him and the kiss broken. Unable to help herself, she began giggling, resting her forehead against his. Within moments, the two of them were laughing; he tugged her arm out from underneath him and covered both of her hands on his chest.

"I think I was just reminded to stop," he laughed and she broke into a fit of giggles again, "in a very peculiar way."

"Oh, _Legolas_ …I was carried away by you there," she said, smiling, but her voice was low, "but this is also very comfortable." Her fingertips touched the skin beneath his collarbone and her thumb moved on his chest, and his body suddenly felt like she had set him on fire. "I think this may be even _better_ —"

His every nerve ending felt _raw_ , and he struggled to maintain focus; she was saying something, he _knew_ she was but his mind could not comprehend it. He was _painfully_ aware how close she was and which parts of her were touching him, her roving toes somewhere near his ankle, her hips above his, her breasts pressed to his chest— _god_ , he should _not_ be thinking of her like this! No, there was no way he could lie here like this any longer. The way his heart was racing, she _had_ to feel it, had to _know!_ He could _not,_ not with her…not _pressed_ to him like this!

Legolas dragged his leg away from hers, bending it so his thigh bumped her _off_ him, knocking their hips out of alignment and dropping her to his side. He sat her up, her hand still on his chest, still close to him, but not in the way she had been and no hand around the back of her neck. He found himself breathless as sat forward, the hand that had been on her neck holding himself upright, his other still remained on her waist; he had never felt such a thing before! He was so discomfited that he could not bear to look at her.

She sat for a moment, unmoving before she could work out in her mind what had happened. One moment, she had been teasing him, the next…this? Confusion spread across her face and she tried to lean towards him—but found she could not; the hand on her waist held her firmly back.

"Give…a moment…" he muttered, barely able to breathe, wishing he could hide from her…or bury himself beneath the divan beside them so she could not see his face.

Surprised by his breathlessness, she covered the hand on her waist. "You…you are trembling?" she said, but it was a question, a tone of astonishment. There was no way she had frightened him—had she? No…his face was flushed…what in the _world_? She could _see_ he was trembling, could feel the fingers at her waist shaking on her dress, could hear him breathing, his heart racing. What had happened?

 _No…this will not do either…_ He could not have her hand on him like that. He simply could not be touched at the moment; he still felt as though he was on _fire…_ Turning from her, he rolled to his knees and then to his feet, _stumbling_ half a step away from her and catching himself on the back of the nearest chair. She followed him up, reaching for him, but he held up a hand to ward her off.

" _Please_ …" he begged her.

"Legolas, what is the matter? What did I do?" she asked. "Are you well? Is everything—"

"I cannot…I felt…I…" he stumbled over the words. How could he _tell_ her what he had felt when he barely understood it himself. Could he even _think_ the word? He could, but he would never say it out loud, never say it to her, never tell her the truth. She had…she had _aroused_ him…and there was no way he could have let her lay there one more moment.

Enguina watched his hands ball into fists, a show of his very tight control. "Legolas, please tell me what is troubling you. I…forgive me; I am so sorry."

"I…I cannot have you touch me like that, not tonight," he said, still unable to look at her, feeling shameful about his very passionate response to her. "We have but three days…already I am _so_ drawn to you." He shook his head and crossed his arms. "I cannot talk about it anymore," he stated firmly. "I _should_ go…as far away from here as possible."

" _No…_ " she whispered, a flash of terror spiking through her at the thought of him leaving her alone, and she put her hands on his shoulders. "Please, do not go."

He closed his eyes and she watched his throat as he swallowed hard. "Can you…can you stop touching me?" She yanked her hands back as he turned towards her. "Can you keep those hands to yourself?" he begged and she stared at him.

"I…is it so bad?"

"I…need to control how I feel," he said, his voice more steady. "It is infinitely more difficult when you…do that and…" he paused touching his hand to his head, "I think the ale affected me tonight."

She suddenly smiled. "Oh, is that all?"

"I _feel_ different…strange…"

"Are you sure it is not me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, and he wondered that she was still teasing him when he was being serious. Now he knew what it felt like.

"Oh, it is definitely you," he muttered. "Please, talk about something else. What…er...what are your plans for tomorrow?" She laughed at the abrupt change of subject, but she backed away from him to sit back down on the divan. "Please do not laugh at me," he whispered, mortified.

She appeared contrite. "Legolas—"

"You cannot understand; you cannot possibly understand and I cannot possibly explain what that did to me. God, it _must_ be the ale! I can lie beside you, but I cannot have you… _no_." He looked terribly upset for a moment. "I would dishonor you…and myself."

Enguina tried to smile. "Well, I know what to do if I ever want to make you uncomfortable again." He groaned.

"How you tease…yet in a few days it will no longer matter, and I will not need to be embarrassed for you will be my wife. Now, here…" he shook his head, "it is not appropriate. Not to worry, I will make up for all this teasing you are doing. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Good," she replied. "Even if you cannot tease me tonight, you are someone who always plans well. To answer your question, I think all we have planned is to food test in Ecthelion. Though why we are tasting the food, I will never understand! They make it; we eat it. It is simple really."

"It is our wedding feast, you know," he explained softly. "Do you have your dress yet?"

"Yes, Arwen is keeping it for me," she replied, studying him. "Are you… _better_ now? Can you come back here and sleep? It is _late_ you know." His jaw tightened and her face grew sad. "Legolas, I _am_ sorry. I never meant to do that; I _swear_ , I was just teasing you as we have always done. I am sorry that it…that it means something different to you now."

"You have never done that before," he said softly, making his way over to her, "and it does not mean something different to me. It has become more difficult to rein myself in when I want to love you so badly, so physically. Guin, I want to shower you with my love and I…it is difficult to wait."

She smiled when he came over to her and she took his hands. "I thought you were only just telling me that you were afraid?"

"All of that was forgotten when…well, when I reacted the way I did."

She tugged him down beside her and she stretched out against his side, ready to be far more careful. "I will not let myself get carried away like that again," she pledged, "though _you_ did try to stop us."

"I did, yes," he said. "Everything was fine but when we fell…" He frowned. "I am sorry I reacted the way I did, and then to turn from you…I was just…I was so embarrassed by my emotions and overcome by my feelings for you." She touched his face and then rested her head against his chest and laid her hand on his heart. "I am sorry."

"There is nothing to forgive. If anything, _I_ should be continuing to apologize, Legolas," she said, closing her eyes. "But what is done is done and it is over. Let us look forward to tomorrow."

He actually smiled. "One day closer to wedded bliss."

"Mmm," she hummed softly, and then she lifted her head. Seeing his eyes closed, she whispered, "Legolas…"

"Yes, _moina_?"

"I…will likely dream tonight," she said. "Please—"

"I will be right here beside you," he replied, and she saw the question flash behind his eyes. "You will remain in my arms." He was silent for a moment, and then his fingers found her hair. "Is it what I said?" he asked, his thoughts returning to her pain; she nodded gently.

"Every mention of him, it seems, has a price," she said, sighing. "I try to trust you and you ground me; you keep me here with you and nowhere else." He kissed her forehead and she relaxed against him, her head returning to his chest.

With two very meaningful, 'I love you's, they drifted off to sleep in one another's arms.


	46. Chapter 46

It was a misty morning, and the fog created just the right amount of cover for someone entering the City that did not desire any fanfare or sort of welcome. In fact, no one really seemed to notice her and no one knew she was coming, so it was fairly easy for her golden mare to climb her way along the cobblestones through the many levels. A cloak drawn up to her face, she rode quietly, very much alone, but she took in the white walls and the beauty of the stone about her, amazed at the strength of the citadel. Having never been near a city of men, this was a new experience for her.

She had traveled, many, many years before; Lothlórien had been her home for over a thousand years and she had no reason to leave it. Now, it did not matter where she wandered; Lórien was no longer home. The mist made the City's complexity confusing to her, and she had to stop and ask for directions to a place to stable her horse from a stone carver before she was able to make her way to the sixth level. The higher they went, the more guards there seemed to be, yet not one of them stopped her. It was a grueling climb for the young mare, and upon arrival she dismounted and patted her neck.

"Take a breath, Rûnving," she said softly. "You have earned it." Patting the sorrel, she turned to find a guard standing close by.

"Excuse me, my Lady," he said, stepping closer to her, "you have clearly traveled far. Might I give you some assistance?" She dropped back the hood of her cloak, and he studied her, though he was clearly surprised at her appearance. "I would assume you are here for the wedding."

Finding her hair dark as the Queen's, he saw a lot of the Queen in her. There was no doubt she was an elf, even as he had stood next to her _before_ she had lowered her hood as she was so very tall. Now, he could clearly see her ears, her beauty, and there was no doubt in his mind that she _was_ beautiful. Long dark hair and hazel eyes made him stare, though he did _try_ to focus.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, her voice melodic in that way that elves have of speaking. "I am here as a sister to the bride."

"The Lady Enguina's sister?" he asked, his eyebrows raising. "How wonderful that you could arrive, my Lady. The wedding is in just two days! I am Lieutenant Hildanir," he introduced himself, bowing slightly.

"You need not bow, my Lord," she said, shaking her head, "I am no one of any importance."

"Well, the Lady Enguina is about to become the Princess of Eryn Lasgalen," he said shamelessly. "That makes you almost nobility." He gave her a smile. "Let me have the groomsmen take your mare inside where she can take some rest. Then perhaps I can provide an escort to wherever the Lady would wish to go?"

"You are very kind, Lieutenant," she replied and he turned to call the groomsmen. When that had been taken care of and her saddlebags and small belongings removed she asked, "Is the Lady Enguina about this morning?"

He winced. "Honestly, I do not think so. She and Prince Legolas left early together, and I have not seen them since. The King Elessar and the Queen—"

"Arwen?"

He nodded. "Yes, I believe they are at the King's House now. They usually take breakfast there. Do you know the Queen?"

"Very well," she replied softly, "and the King, though it has been many years since I have seen them." She looked up at the gleaming, tall Tower of Ecthelion and frowned thoughtfully. " _Many_ years."

"I am certain they will be delighted to see you," he stated. "Please, let me escort you, my Lady."

"Erumar," she said softly as the two of them began walking together. "My name is Erumar."

He smiled at her. "Welcome to Minas Tirith, my Lady Erumar."

* * *

Hildanir had left her at the steps to the King's House as she had told him she could announce herself. Part of her did not wish to intrude, part of her could not wait to see them, and part of her…did not even know how to _talk_ to them. How would this be? She swallowed hard, but there was no way she could make this any easier—no matter what she did. She knocked, and then stood back from the door.

The door opened and Arwen stood on the step before her, as beautiful as she had ever been, though a bit changed…thinner, perhaps…but the delight on her face was as Erumar had always remembered it. " _Praise Him!_ " Arwen cried, laughing and throwing her arms around her friend's neck. "Oh praise Ilúvatar for his great blessings! For bringing you here!"

"Oh, _Arwen_ ," she whispered, "it is so good to see you." Simply being held by her was enough for the moment; she felt as though she had not been touched by another being in… _years_. Arwen squeezed her tight for another few seconds and then pulled back to look at her, tears in both of their eyes. "I have missed you so."

"I am so _glad_ you are here," she gasped, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "We had hoped you would come; we have been praying for it!" Arwen stepped backwards, clutching Erumar's hands. "Come inside!" she laughed, pulling her in.

Erumar crossed the threshold and as Arwen was tugging, she noticed something off about her hands. Looking down, Arwen noticed a crisscrossing pattern of lines and marks along her long fingers, several stretching towards her wrists; between Erumar's fingers there were deep lines that wrapped from the back of her hands towards her palms. Arwen stopped and stared down at them. "Erumar, what…what happened to your hands?"

She slipped them from Arwen's and let them drop to her sides. "Forget them, Arwen," she said softly. "Pretend they are fine." Arwen looked at her a moment longer, wanting to press, but she could feel a certain brittleness in her response. She nodded, reaching over to take the saddlebags and then stepped out of the way, leaving Erumar standing before Aragorn. She stared at him for a moment and he smiled at her, reaching out to take her hands himself. He did not look twice at them, though she felt that was probably because he had heard her tell Arwen to forget it. "Elessar," she whispered, shaking her head, trying to speak around the lump in her throat, "the years have _undeniably_ been good to you."

"Fair Erumar," he said and leaned forward to kiss her other cheek, "you are still as beautiful as I remember. It is so _good_ to have you here visiting with us and to be in our home." He then drew her into a hug and held her tight for a moment, and she found her arms pulled of their own accord around his waist, Arwen's comforting hand on her back. There was history between the three of them; joy…and pain. When Aragorn did not release her and she could not let go, resting her forehead against his shoulder, Arwen hugged her from behind, squeezing her tight. Erumar could not keep the tears from her eyes at the warmth of their embrace.

"Come and sit with us," Arwen whispered in her ear, her voice thick. "I only just finished cooking breakfast, and you must be hungry. You have been traveling for all this time!" The two of them released her, but before he pulled back, Aragorn rested his hand in her hair and kissed her forehead. "Come," Arwen said again, drawing her to a chair. They also sat as Erumar slowly wiped her eyes.

"Now, I see why you married him," she tried to laugh, but it was hard. She had not laughed in…no, she could not remember the last time she had laughed. "So gentle…so full of peace." Aragorn placed some food before her and filled a cup with cool water as he smiled.

Arwen set her hand gently over Erumar's and looked at her with eyes full of love. "Yes, and you are here with us now; Enguina will be so delighted you are here. Everything is going to be all right."

 _You are here with us now. Everything is going to be all right_. Erumar heard those words and she nearly broke down into tears. She swallowed hard and her eyes fluttered closed. "You cannot know how long I have wished to hear that," she whispered, and Arwen squeezed her hand.

"Seven very long years," Aragorn said, his voice filled with compassion for her.

"Has it…has it only been that long?" Erumar heard her own voice saying the words, but she had not really thought to ask the question. "It feels…ever so much longer." She looked down and moved a piece of fruit along her plate with her fork, wondering when the last time was that she had eaten. She lifted her head to both of them trying to smile. "But Ilúvatar has blessed the two of you, smiled upon you," she said. "You have a wonderful home and a beautiful kingdom. This is where you were meant to be—such a blessing to other people. To rule and bless with love; those are your gifts."

"You are too kind," Aragorn said to her gently.

"I speak the truth," she insisted. "I have always seen in you what you did not want to see in yourself, what Arwen saw in you. No more shadows."

"None," he agreed, bowing his head to her. "Again, I thank you for your encouragement."

"Where are your children, Erumar?" Arwen asked. "Enguina said that they—"

Erumar shook her head. "Hrivë, Macarion, and Elentára sailed for Valinor shortly after the War," she replied. "Aelin and her husband have made a home for themselves in East Lórien now. I have heard there is more light and song there now."

"And you, have you gone to East Lórien as well? Celeborn is there now, yes?" Aragorn asked.

"No, I remained in Lórien," she returned. "I could...not go."

"Were there others?" Arwen asked, touching her hand. "There are surely others who remained."

"When I came to journey here, Lórien was emptied." She gave a sad smile. "When Enguina left, what was left of our people also journeyed, moving finally to East Lórien. I have been alone, but perhaps that is as it should be."

"Do not say such things," Arwen said softly. "You should not be alone; I honestly do not know how Enguina made the decision to leave you." She shook her head. "I would never have—"

"Enguina had no choice," she replied, lifting her head to look into Arwen's face. "She may have told you that she left, what she did not tell you was that I sent her away. Well, I _chased_ her away."

"What can you mean?" she asked, and Aragorn tilted his head.

"Erumar, what…you have been unwell," he stated, changing from his question.

" _Unwell_ is such a… _nice_ word," Erumar said wryly, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. "This is the longest conversation that I have had with another living being in—at the very least—two years. Enguina, in enough pain of her own, has been struggling to keep me alive these past years. She left because I forced her to go; how could she stay? There was nothing left for her there."

"Why did you not go to the Havens yourself?" Arwen asked, horrified. "Why did you not come here more quickly?"

"I…do not know. I do not even know why I am alive, Arwen, how can I answer that question? There were days Enguina would come to visit me and she knew very well I had simply forgotten to eat." She looked down at the plate of food before her. "I do not know when I have last eaten, when I last slept. None of it has mattered in so long to me since…" She shook her head. "I do not wish to trouble you with my heart." She looked back up into their eyes, an attempt at a smile on her face. "Being with you again, after spending these past months alone, brings me feelings of happiness that I have not felt in so long. I…scarce remember what it felt like to smile. I _am_ thankful to be here, for no matter how short a time." She hesitated. "There is nothing that you could have done, or can do, to take away my pain or make it less so."

"I would have delivered the news myself if I had thought it would bring you less pain," Aragorn said to her gently.

"No, that would have been much worse," she replied, closing her eyes. "Losing him…is the most painful, agonizing part of my existence. It has become my world. Nothing can change that now. He _was_ my world, along with my children…now, all of them are gone. They took the last of my heart with them when they journeyed across the Sea. When I breathe, there is nothing but an ache; it is as though my heart will not heal. I miss him more than I can even understand myself, much less explain. It is as though there is a great weight in my chest, bearing down on me. I imagine him in my dreams before he traveled to War and I wonder if I should have said something different that would have made him stay.

"But then, I always remember the look in his eyes when he found out you were in great danger near Helm's Deep," she continued softly, looking to Aragorn. "It was his desire to go to you, to lead troops into battle to defend you, and to bring you aid. He wanted nothing more or less than to fight beside you once more and to aid you in your quest."

Aragorn looked at her, saddened by her words. He could see in her that she was ready to lay herself down, probably had tried. She had no idea why she was still alive, why she still remained in Lórien among the pain and the grief. She was brittle, her heart broken by Haldir's death, and he wanted, knowing Arwen felt the same, to find a way to reach out and prevent that from happening. "Haldir fought with bravery and skill on the wall that night. He died defending the Rohirrim, his men fighting the Uruks until every single one had been slain, fighting."

"If he had to die," she whispered, "that is the death he wanted—to be fighting for you. I am certain that does not bring you any peace, but it makes me feel that he at least is at rest, to hear that he fought bravely and met his end in battle." Her voice was so sad, but Arwen noticed there were no tears in her eyes as she spoke. This must have been because she had none left to shed; she had cried enough for a lifetime the seven years she had been without him.

"Aragorn was with him when he died," Arwen told her gently. "He was not alone."

Erumar looked over at Aragorn and bowed her head. "You are too good."

"If I were good, I would have prevented his death," he said softly. "I am…so sorry, Erumar. All I wanted was for him to return to you."

"Thank you," she replied. "I remember, looking down from the trees, when he stood among his troops and led them from Lórien…it was the dead of night. I think I may have known then, when I was unable to say goodbye, that he would not return. Enguina knows; she was unable to say goodbye as well, but he was not her husband." She closed her eyes for a moment. "My heart is so broken. I barely feel anything," she said, and then gave a bitter laugh. "Ilúvatar has been hard on me indeed these past years. The loneliness of Lórien has only furthered my depression. Being alone has only made this worse and still I remain. I thought I would be dead by now," she whispered softly. "There are moments I wish it were over…"

"Your words break my heart," Arwen whispered, getting to her feet to wrap her arms around Erumar's shoulders. "There is a reason you are sitting here with us. Do not despair, Erumar."

"Yes, let your heart feel lighter," Aragorn added. "Let the wedding lighten your spirits and give you peace…you can find your joy again here. Let us help you find it."

"Enguina has changed, hmm?" Erumar asked softly. "She was so sad all the years past in Lórien after you went away. I am ashamed to say in these last years I could barely notice her feelings beyond my own pain. It is no wonder she left; I have been living in the prison I built for myself. We could do nothing to help one another."

"She _has_ changed," Arwen replied. "Legolas has altered her world and brought her love. The darkness has left her and she has found the light."

"I have never been happier for anyone but you," she admitted. "Thinking about all the time that she spent in quiet, her nightmares…to know that she has found someone to spend her life with is so wonderful. And he is a good man, yes?"

"The best," said Aragorn. "A most loving, compassionate, and protective soul."

"Yes, I remember the name Legolas," she added, "and the stories Arwen used to tell me. I met him…a long time ago in Imladris, though he would probably not remember me. I cannot wait to see her, just as I could not wait to see you both. I know it has been so long, yet…I was not going to come." She frowned, feeling the weight of the sadness she bore. "But then I could do nothing else. She is like a sister to me through blood, just as you have been, Arwen, through friendship. Though, our last parting was…awkward."

"I _have_ missed you, Erumar." Arwen leaned back and rested her hands on Erumar's shoulders.

"Tell me, what has it been like to be a Queen?" she asked with a tiny smile. "I know you are well-suited to the task, but it seems it can be a difficult struggle in this world of men."

"It has not been easy," she replied, "but Aragorn and I rely on one another for strength. These are good people, and we seek to protect and love them as much as we can. I often find myself enjoying these duties."

"Do you—you still find time for each other, I hope?" she asked, glancing over at Aragorn.

"We make sure of that," Arwen said, and then continued, admitting, "though at times it has been challenging."

Erumar nodded, thinking of the two of them trying to make time together. She noticed the sitting room off to her right and her eyes were immediately drawn to the rocking horse in the corner of the room opposite the hearth. She gasped and looked up into Arwen's face, suddenly gripping her hands. "Ilúvatar has blessed you both! You have a _babe_?" she asked, and then looked to Aragorn, utter delight on her face though she felt Arwen's hands tighten on her shoulders. " _Where_ —"

"No," Aragorn denied softly, shaking his head even as he felt Arwen's stab of pain as well as his own. "It has been a…rough year for us. Arwen conceived, but was poisoned just months ago and nearly died. In the midst of all that chaos, we lost our child, a son. Enguina had been taken and…" he paused, and Erumar could hear the sorrow in his voice, "it was a mess, Erumar."

"You were _poisoned_?" Erumar asked, horrified as she looked up into Arwen's face, reaching up to stroke her dark hair. "Ilúvatar, I am so _sorry._ I saw the horse and I thought—"

"That is not your fault," Arwen whispered. "We are still…trying to accept it ourselves. It has been very difficult."

"Oh my dear," she replied, stroking her hair again, "how awful for you both." She looked at Aragorn and he could sense she wanted to moan in despair but held it inside. "Who tried to do this? _Why?_ And Enguina, taken? She has not been here six months!"

"It is complicated," Aragorn told her. "But they were elves and men in league together to destroy Gondor, both the heir and Queen. Taking Enguina insured we would follow them, leaving Arwen here and unsuspecting of an attack. There was nothing anyone could do; Arwen herself did not know she had been poisoned. Legolas and Gimli were able to bring Enguina home safely."

"There have been so many obstacles," Arwen said as Erumar's hand gripped hers. "Just a few weeks ago, Legolas was taken by members of his own kin who tried to ransom him to his father for some of the lands of Eryn Lasgalen. It _has_ been a very difficult year."

Erumar looked at her, and then lowered her eyes to Aragorn. "Ilúvatar _must_ know what he is doing, yes? I keep trying to tell myself that."

"I keep telling myself to trust him no matter what," Arwen whispered. "In the darkest nights, when I know he could have kept us from this pain, I keep thinking that there must have been some reason we were not spared; I thought it was punishment. I thought it something I had done wrong. Most recently, I have been trying to have faith in Ilúvatar's plan for us…though I cannot understand it, and sometimes I cannot keep myself from asking why. I know he will not answer that question."

"No, he will not. I…should be honest with you both," she said, lowering her hands and settling them on the table before her, "as you have been so honest with me. I have lost all hope that Ilúvatar _has_ a plan for me." Her voice had dropped and was low and quiet. "I do not mean to put a damper on your faith, to make you not desire to trust him. He still remains at your side; you still have each other, and clearly he is at Enguina's to bring her love in Legolas, and those are two answers to prayer. For myself…I do not see the light nor his purpose. I have been alone for so long with no reason to be alive, wandering from here to there without a cause. I wish I knew why I was here."

"Is that one of the reasons why you have come?" asked Aragorn. "Can we help you?"

She shook her head very slowly. "Oh, Aragorn…always you seek to _heal_. Both of you are so kind, and Enguina was the same way. You cannot understand; I know this. Can there be healing from this?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "You know very well what would happen if Aragorn were to die, Arwen, do you not?"

She was silent for a moment, and then Arwen replied, without looking at Aragorn, "I would die of a broken heart."

"So I must ask the question: _why am I still here_?" She lifted her shoulders, unable to answer the question. "Am I not broken _enough_? What is the reason? I try to believe there still _is_ one, even though I feel there is no plan for me…none at all. I feel as though I have been forgotten." She sighed. "I do not feel his purpose, his touch in my life. He is nowhere near me. He—"

Pounding came up the front steps and the three of them turned their heads. Suddenly, the door flew open and a little redhead came rushing inside, laughing and screaming as she dashed through the kitchen without stopping and into the sitting room.

"Who was—" began Erumar, her eyebrows high, having not seen a child in many, many years.

"Annî?" called Aragorn, rising to his feet. Arwen straightened as well to follow the child and then took a step back against Erumar's chair as Thranduil jogged up the steps and into the House.

"Where _is_ the little devil?" he growled, and there was no patience in his gaze as he spied her giggling and rocking on the horse in the other room. "Get _down_ from there!" he thundered, and Annî screamed loudly—then burst into a fit of giggles.

"Thranduil!" laughed Arwen, though surprised by his tone. "Take it _easy_."

"She is only a child," Aragorn insisted, holding out a hand to calm him.

Thranduil took and then let out a breath, looking as though he needed to count to one million instead of five. "I have been chasing her around the garden for the last ten minutes, between the hedgerows, under the benches, around the bushes, _through_ the fountain, and Éowyn was worried sick about her as she could not find her. In her condition—"

"Is she all right?" asked Aragorn, looking worried.

"She was not feeling well, and I volunteered to help her this morning though this is _clearly_ not my duty or anything I have done in several hundred…forgive me, _thousand_ years." He rolled his shoulders. "This was to be _Éomer's_ duty for the morning, as given to him by Faramir, but _no_ …it has become _mine._ "

Arwen smiled. "Would you like me to get her for you?"

"No, no," he grumbled with a scowl, "I will retrieve the imp."

"She might run from you with _that_ expression on your face," Aragorn teased with a smile. "You appear as a grumpy, old troll."

There was a burst of laughter from the next room and Thranduil looked over at Aragorn, pasting an absolutely ridiculous-looking smile on his face as he walked into the sitting room to get the child. Arwen laughed and then looked down to find a smile on Erumar's face as she watched him walk away.

"Children," Erumar whispered, "they bring out the best in everyone, do they not?"

"The best in some, the worst in others," Aragorn said with a laugh. "She can be a bit of a handful; Arwen and I have spent some time watching her as we are her guardians. As bad as her father."

"Who is she?" Erumar asked, watching Thranduil wander carefully over to her as she was rocking. And it was not only Annî she found herself wondering about. Studying the elf's perfect posture from behind, his hands clasped at the small of his back, his long flaxen hair; her gaze was easily drawn to him.

They heard him say, "Andúnêiel, your mother is waiting for you to return. Come…" His voice grew quiet and they missed his words to her.

"Annî is the daughter of Faramir and Éowyn, Prince and Princess of Ithilien," Aragorn replied.

"No!" Annî said with a giggle. "I want to stay here, Thandul! I _like_ the horze!"

"It does not belong to you, but I will…"

Arwen rolled her eyes and covered her mouth to prevent her laugh from being heard. "Did you _hear_ what she _called_ him?"

"That is the _worst_ ," laughed Aragorn. They did not hear the rest of his response, but they heard her squeal.

" _Promise!?_ " she screamed and the three of them jumped.

A sigh. "I give you my word, Lady." There was a bit of banging and tromping.

Too intrigued, the three of them leaned towards the corner, but they did not need to wait long as Thranduil appeared, rolling his eyes, Annî's arms clasped around his neck, her fiery hair popping up over his shoulder as she hung over his back. He stopped, smiling wryly as he looked at them, Annî grinning from ear to ear, trying to get a grip on his sides with her little bare feet as he held her arms.

"That went well," offered Aragorn, and as Thranduil opened his mouth to make a snide reply, he suddenly noticed Erumar sitting there, a curve in her lips.

"Thandul! Thandul!" cried Annî, tugging on his neck and nearly choking him as he coughed and Erumar actually laughed at him as well as Aragorn. Arwen stood dumbstruck at her laugh.

"And—" he choked on her name, leaning forward and boosting her up, tucking his hands behind his back and underneath her to take the pressure from his throat as she giggled from being thrown forward. "Forgive me for being so terribly rude, my Lady." He said this from a nearly upside-down position which only made the entire situation more hilarious.

"Introductions are in order," Aragorn said with a grin. "Thranduil, Legolas's father, Ki—"

" _Elf_!" cried Annî, and Erumar smiled again.

"Hello, little one," she said, and then looked into Thranduil's eyes, "Erumar, of Lothlórien."

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, though that is not really my place is it?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes full of humor, she replied, "Not quite, my Lord."

"Thandul! Ride!" said Annî, bouncing on his back. He grunted and stood upright.

"Treated like a common animal."

"I think you can handle yourself," added Aragorn. Arwen remained silent watching their exchange. The man looked at the little girl with a sad face. "Annî, no good morning? Not even a smile for your Tirion or Tiriel?" he asked. She shook her head back and forth and bounced again on the elf's back. Aragorn sighed and then gave Thranduil a smile. "Perhaps you should take Annî back and then join us for breakfast if you have not already had it. We were waiting on Legolas and Enguina, but—"

"No, I saw them this morning," he said shaking his head, "and—"

" _Thandul!_ " Annî cried, and she tightened her grip around his throat.

" _Thranduil_ ," he said stiffly, "and _patience_ , my girl. _Patience_." He rolled his eyes heavenward and then looked back to Erumar. "I apologize for my _enduring_ rudeness, but as you can see I have a child that is forcing me to be her beast of burden. Are you to be here long?"

"I am a friend of the bride, my Lord. I am…to stay as long as the celebration."

"She is a good friend to us as well," Aragorn said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. "She will be here for dinner, but come back if you can. Join us for breakfast."

Thranduil's eyebrows rose and Arwen noticed a strange light in his eyes. "That is most excellent news about dinner; I shall make every endeavor to attend." His eyes were fixed on Erumar's and she felt unexpectedly drawn to his gaze. "Something tells me that I would not want to miss one moment of the time." There were words left off, but all three clearly heard them as bold as daylight. Thranduil straightened as Erumar stared at him, unable to remove her eyes from him, the curve of her lips still up. "I regret that I told Éowyn I would stay longer this morning," he said, looking over to Aragorn, "and return her daughter, so…tonight."

Aragorn bowed his head, still smiling, and with Annî bouncing on his back, Thranduil bowed deeply and left the House, closing the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Arwen sank down into her chair, staring at the back of Erumar's head in wonderment, her hand over her mouth; she was _smiling—_ a _real_ smile! Erumar returned her attention to the plate before her, picking up her fork.

"He never did tell us about Enguina and Legolas," Aragorn said, resuming his seat.

Erumar lifted her head and caught sight of Arwen, who remained very still. "Are you all right, Arwen?" she asked, and the elf nodded.

"Oh, yes…" she agreed, trying to shake herself out of her shock. "I…was thinking about finding Enguina in a little while. Aragorn has duties to attend to, but I think I can postpone my own until we find the bride and groom. Then perhaps you can help the two of us out on something we were… _planning_."

Aragorn's eyebrows rose. "Am I not allowed to know of this plan?"

"One of you may need to know eventually," she admitted. "I will tell you if necessary. At the moment, no. I think it would interest you, Erumar."

She nodded. "Keep me occupied, Arwen." She gave her a little smile. "The more I do the less I think. Not thinking is a very good idea."

"I promise I will encourage you to not think all day."

"Please," groaned Aragorn, "when you say things such as that I feel as though I need to worry."

"I traveled to Minas Tirith entirely on my own, Aragorn," Erumar said, "I think I can handle one afternoon in your City."

"I was not referring to you."

Arwen gave him a gentle shove from across the table. "Oh stop. Now, if Enguina were here, then I would say you would have cause to worry; though, I suppose she will be soon enough." She grinned suddenly. "I remembered what Legolas and Enguina were doing today—taste testing!"

"That is right," Aragorn agreed popping a piece of sausage in his mouth. "I do remember now."

"I would love to see them and finally meet Legolas," Erumar replied, finding herself smiling another genuine smile. "Anything that includes the two of them is completely fine with me."

* * *

When Arwen and Erumar entered into the Tower, Legolas and Enguina were laughing at each other. Erumar had been distracted up until that moment when she heard their voices, staring around at the beauty of Ecthelion and the marbled stone, being a bit drawn out of the brittle shell she had cast around herself. They had climbed the stairs to the conference chambers somewhere around the seventh floor, a few floors below where the homeless Gondorians were being housed. However, upon entering the rooms here where food was spread around some of the tables, many of those very same Gondorians were standing about, tasting the foods that had been prepared.

"Honestly, Legolas!" they heard Enguina cry out. "You are _not_ doing that to me!"

"It is _tradition_ to shove the cake in each other's faces!" he laughed in response.

" _No_!"

"Come now, Guin, do not be that way."

" _That_ way? I think we can see how far tradition brought us before. I _think_ I have had quite enough of your traditions."

He rolled his eyes. "This is not _my_ tradition. The cake-shoving is a little wedding delight going back centuries and generations and—"

"And _we_ do not need to participate in it."

He leaned in towards her, waggling his eyebrows. "What if I make you another bargain?"

" _Legolas_ …" she groaned, "whyever do I allow you to get away with that?"

Erumar stopped in the doorway, hesitating, and Arwen halted beside her. "What is it?" she asked, and Erumar slowly shook her head.

"I…do not know how she is going to feel about seeing me," she said, twisting her fingers together. "We both said some…terrible things to each other."

"She has been mentioning you nearly every day," Arwen reassured her. "She is looking forward to you being here!" She reached over and gave Erumar a tug. "Come now."

The two of them moved out into the room and Legolas looked up first. "Good morning, Arwen!"

Enguina turned and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Erumar. "You came!" she exclaimed. She stood up and went immediately to them; she could see clearly the tears in Erumar's eyes, and she remembered every miserable word they had spoken to one another. Tears filled hers as well.

"Please," Erumar whispered, "let me beg your forgiveness for—"

"I am sorry, too," she replied, and she reached out and hugged Erumar. The two of them held each other close for a moment. "I forgive you. I am…I am just _so glad you are here_." She leaned back and kissed her cheek. "It is so good to see you." She left off the word that Erumar clearly heard: _alive_.

"It is good to see you, too."

"I did not think you were coming!" Enguina said a bit more joyously, almost as though nothing could ruin the mood. "Are you alone? When did you arrive? You _must_ meet Legolas!"

"Yes, I came alone, and I only arrived just this morning. I came early enough to take breakfast with Aragorn and Arwen; then we came to find you." She looked over Enguina's shoulder and gave Legolas a little smile. "You are the bridegroom. You may not remember me, but I met you once, a very, very long ago. May I congratulate you and wish you forever to love this woman."

"Erumar," Enguina chided, embarrassed by her words.

"Thank you so for your words. Though I do not remember your face, you are every bit as beautiful as Enguina has told me," he said softly and grinned at her. "Guin has spoken of you so often, I feel as though I do know you. I had hoped, one day, I would have the privilege of getting to know you. Thank you for coming."

Enguina grabbed Erumar's hand and put it in Legolas's. "I am so _happy_! This is my sister!"

"In bond," she said softly.

"How have you _been,_ Erumar?" Enguina asked. "How did you get here?"

"Rûnving brought me," Erumar replied, "and let us not speak of the past if we can avoid it." There was a pause; it was clear, once again, that she wanted to press the issue, but she visibly let it go.

"Well, you are here now," Enguina sighed. "Now _everything_ is right. I do not know if I would have been happy with our celebration if you were not here to join us."

"I am not sure how much more of an addition I will be, Enguina," Erumar admitted. "But I will share in your joy as much as I can. And you, to be a Princess?"

Enguina rolled her eyes. "I will admit I think of _that_ responsibility as little as possible."

"Erumar met your father this morning as well," Arwen added.

Legolas raised his eyebrows at her. "She met my father? Was he a ray of sunshine this morning or…something else?"

"Legolas," chided Enguina. "I _love_ your father."

"I do as well," he stated firmly. "But there are times he is pleasant and times he will take you to task. Which was it this morning?"

"He was pleasant," said Erumar, "and rather amusing."

Legolas stared at her incredulously. " _My_ father? King Thranduil, amusing?" He looked over at Arwen. "Is such a thing even possible?"

Arwen smiled, remembering Erumar's first real smile. "He made all of us laugh with his antics with Annî. I have a feeling this evening's supper might be…very interesting."

"Why?" asked Enguina, intrigued.

"For several reasons," Arwen said enigmatically, and it made Enguina raise her eyebrows. "One would be that I have a feeling he promised Annî something to get her out of the House this morning. We shall see."

"Well, we shall see him for dinner at least; that shall have to be enough," Enguina stated, looping her arm through Erumar's. "Erumar, you must tell me of your journey. Was it quiet?"

"Very," she replied as Enguina had her take a seat at the table where the food had been spread out, everyone else sitting down around it as well. "Long and quiet."

"That is because _you_ are quiet when you are alone," Enguina pointed out, though not nastily. "What else has been happening? Are the woods of Lórien as quiet as you?"

"Let us not speak of the past," Erumar stated again, this time more firmly. Enguina looked a bit embarrassed, and Legolas surprised at the tone in her voice. But then her look softened as she tried to change the subject to something she wanted to talk about. "You…you are much changed, Enguina. I have never been happier to see you so obviously in love, so obviously full of joy." She looked at Legolas. "I have heard much about you as well, Prince Legolas. A more handsome husband Enguina could not find."

He laughed softly, but refused to be embarrassed by her words. "Please, Legolas is my name, and I thank you for your kind words."

"When I received word several months ago that you were to be wed, I was all amazement, but full of delight as well. Finally, my Enguina has found a home." She gave her a gentle smile, and squeezed the other elf's hand. "You two will be wed here, in the City?"

"Yes," replied Enguina. "A perfect spring wedding and in only two days' time! I must also ask a favor of you while you are here, but—"

"Anything you wish," Erumar replied. "I am at your disposal."

"No, no," she laughed, "not here…not in front of Legolas, anyway."

"Ugh," he groaned. "Not again with this nonsense."

Erumar raised an eyebrow. "Do not tell me you are playing games on each other?"

"Well, this is not," Enguina admitted, "but there should be some fun before the wedding, yes?"

"There is going to be revenge here, you know," he said eyeing Enguina. " _Great_ revenge. Even if it takes me years."

She leaned forward as well and smiled sweetly at him. "I welcome it."

He rested his elbows on the table and began to lean toward her when he bumped a box with his elbows. "What is this?" he asked looking down, but Enguina kept right on smiling.

"It was on the table when we sat down," Arwen said, eyeing it up. "It appears innocent enough."

"Is there no letter with it?" inquired Erumar, though she had a thought as to who had placed it.

Legolas lifted the box and sighed, looking at Enguina suspiciously. "If you wanted to give me a gift, you could have simply—"

"Oh, open it!" she cried, laughing. "I did not want to hand it to you."

He began undoing the ribbon and when it was finished, a _pop!_ was heard. The top of the box blew off and out exploded a stream of paper and brightly dyed bits of fabric, spraying out into the air as Legolas nearly dove from his chair, startled by the gift. Enguina and Arwen burst out laughing at the picture Legolas made, lying on the floor covered in bits of paper, Enguina's head on her arms as she fought to control herself. Erumar, who had been startled herself began giggling uncontrollably at the elf as well.

"Oh, _fine…_ go ahead and laugh," Legolas said with some irritation. He finally sat up, watching them laugh at him before he brushed a hand along his tunic, taking off some of the paper. There was no _way_ he was going to let Enguina get away with that, and reaching over, he grabbed her leg and dragged her out of her chair and down on top of himself.

She shrieked at the sudden yank and fall, hitting him once squarely in the chest when she ended up on his lap, but Legolas wrapped his arms around her to hold her there and began tickling her mercilessly. Enguina tried to get away, tried to grab his hands, still shrieking, but it sounded like cackling at this point, she was still laughing so hard. He wrestled her to the floor, still trying to tickle her, and pin her down with one shoulder.

"Mercy! Have _mercy_!" she cried, struggling to get away from him as he laughed.

"And _you_ said you were not to be tickled! Well, well! Will you apologize for your most unscrupulous behavior?" he asked, pausing in his attack long enough for her to make a reply. "Or is there more torture in your very near future?"

Gasping, her back pressed flat to the stone floor, she forgot that Erumar and Arwen were even present for a moment, her eyes trapped on Legolas's dancing blue ones. "I will _not_ apologize, you _troll_ ," she muttered, so low only he could hear.

"Then suffer the consequences," he stated, and she lunged away, trying to roll from beneath him, giggling as she went when he caught her and tickled her again, refusing to let her go. It went on like this for a few more long seconds, Enguina breathless as she finally squirmed her hands free to grab his and tug them away from her sides.

"You are _awful_!" she laughed, unable to control her breathing. Swiftly, he leaned down and kissed her soundly, and she gave into the kiss, releasing one of his hands so she could wrap hers around the back of his neck.

"You _owe_ me," he murmured into her mouth, and she could only kiss him in response.

Up at the table, Erumar set her chin on her folded hands, a smile on her face as she watched the joyous exchange. "Oh…this is good for my soul."

Arwen reached over and touched her arm. "We are _so glad_ you are here."


	47. Chapter 47

That night, dinner was to be in Ecthelion for certain. Gathering around the table and spending time together all in one place was absolutely wonderful, and for the first time it seemed, they _were_ all together. Even though Ecthelion was not as personal as the King's House, there was room for them all here and they were laughing in no time at all. It was a cool spring night and so the hearth in the room was lit, shining a splendid light all around and giving the atmosphere in the grand room to the comforts of a cozy home.

Thranduil had seated himself, much to his own surprise, beside Enguina and across the table from Erumar. It was an odd move for himself, as he found that he could study her better from this angle, and as he had also found himself doing continuously as the evening had gone on. She did not laugh often, or smile—she was fairly solemn, serious as he was—yet when she did it was beautiful. Still, he had seen beautiful women in his life, and that did not give him an inclination to get to know her better. Something _else_ did…and he had no idea what that was, but he knew her beauty had nothing to do with it.

"So," she said to him, glancing up and finding him watching her as she ate a bit of potato, "you are _King_ of the Woodland Realm. Someone neglected to mention that earlier."

"I am," he admitted. "I think Elessar might have, had he the time, and if we had not been interrupted by the screaming of a child."

She smiled. "I have heard of Mirkwood, but I have never seen it."

"It is the Greenwood now, Eryn Lasgalen," he replied. "There are yet dark places within it where the spiders have not all been vanquished, but for the most part it has returned to the green of the past, when it was fair and lovely. And you are from Lothlórien. I heard there were no elves living there since Celeborn moved his people. Are you now in East Lórien?"

"No," she said softly, "but let us not speak of Lórien; it is not as it once was."

He bowed his head slightly, acquiescing to her request. "Has Celeborn gone now?" he asked. "I heard that he may have once they were settled."

"I do not believe he has gone over the Sea yet," she replied, "but he was sad, lonely without the Lady. Caras Galadon had grown dim without her light." Thranduil nodded. "Tell me more about the Woodland Realm," she prompted him. "I have always wanted to visit there."

Thranduil began speaking quietly to her about the Greenwood, the trees, the rivers, the animals there within their borders. He spoke of Beorn, living on the entrance protecting their western border, and she laughed when he began to tell her of some of the silly things his people had been doing recently to decorate the forest and make it more beautiful, to plant, to return and restore its beauty and light. There was love in his voice as he spoke. She could hear it.

Beside him, Enguina listened as well with rapture. Legolas did not speak of his birthplace with the same passion as Thranduil did; perhaps it was because he had not lived there so long, or perhaps he had long viewed it as a prison. Whatever the case, it made Enguina want to visit it and see it for herself.

"Enguina never heard as many stories of the Greenwood as I had," Erumar said, gently bringing her into the conversation. Thranduil realized that he was leaning closer to Erumar on the table so that she alone could hear him and he sat back also to include Enguina. "It is good to hear them from someone who has lived there, not only visited."

"You can tell how much you love your people, Thranduil," said Enguina, smiling, "how much you love the Greenwood simply by listening to you speak."

"Yes," added Legolas, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "It is coming along quite beautifully, last I remember."

"Even more so since you saw it," he agreed. "The herds have returned almost completely. I am hoping that within a few years we will have eradicated all the spawn of Ungoliant from the woods. Our armies razed Dol Guldur to the ground, and that is where Celeborn had brought up East Lórien."

"Is there light and song in _your_ woods, Thranduil?" Erumar asked softly.

"Yes, at times," he replied, but he would not lie, "but not as much as there once was. Legolas could tell you more of those times." _I have not the heart for them_.

"There have been celebrations as you could not have imagined, Erumar," Legolas laughed. "The most wonderful ale and wine that flowed out of our cellars!"

Enguina laughed as well. "Thranduil, you did not say a word about such cellars before!"

"Well, some present at the table know them quite well. Master Gimli—"

"Here, here!" the dwarf shouted with a grin. "I'd toast to them, Thranduil, if I had my ale back from the kitchen!"

He smiled. "Of course you would, Master Dwarf, and to think I once despised the dwarves as much as they despised us." He looked across the table to Erumar. "Time changes perspectives."

She nodded. "All races have come together since the War. Middle-Earth is going to find its peace." She glanced down the table to see Aragorn watching them. "The King has healed this land."

"Ah, yes, Elessar also knows of my wine cellars quite well," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

Aragorn shook his head. "I will not go into any detail aside to admit that I was so drunk I could not sit upright."

"I think we call that drunk off your ass, Aragorn!" called Éomer from down the table.

" _Éomer_!" cried Éowyn, smacking his arm. "Watch your tongue around the children."

"And by that, she means me!" laughed Faramir.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Éomer. As I said, I try to pretend that night never happened."

"It would have helped if _I_ had helped hinder you," Legolas admitted. "But I did not."

"There was far too much drinking that night."

"Well here's to more!" hollered Gimli with a laugh as he lifted his mug of ale, toasting the cooks towards the adjoining room. "We should have dinner here more often! Not that I don't love a meal prepared by the ladies, but there's something about the atmosphere in here that's quite nice!"

Enguina giggled. "Gimli, we already know how you feel about our cooking."

"Enguina? Cook?" asked Erumar, staring at her with surprise.

"Quite well, in fact," added Arwen.

"She has had some help," reminded Aragorn, grinning at Legolas.

"I thought you would said you would never learn!" exclaimed Erumar.

"Now _there_ is a story," insisted Legolas. "Tell it, Erumar, will you please?" He leaned forward at the table, but Enguina shoved him, glaring daggers at her friend.

"You will most certainly _not_ tell it!"

Erumar held up her hands as if to ward off her anger, and Legolas laughed while Thranduil's eyes were immediately drawn to Erumar's hands. "She is so _secretive_! Why is no one on my side when it comes to finding things out about my bride-to-be? I can know nothing about her unless she tells the story herself!"

"I will _not_ be telling that one," Enguina insisted stubbornly, crossing her arms.

Thranduil sat back, crossing his legs and eyeing her as he tilted his head. "Women are due a few secrets, Legolas. Let her have them."

Enguina sighed and gave Thranduil a look across the table. "Thank you, Thranduil. At least _someone_ cares about my feelings…and not embarrassing me."

"Stories are in the past, dearest," Legolas stated, looking over at her and covering her hand with his own. "A story is nothing more than a fond memory."

"It is not _fond_ ," she growled. "No one is telling it to you. I forbid it."

" _Forbid_ is such a strong word," Legolas said with a little smile. "When you say 'forbid' do you mean as in, forever?"

" _As in never tell ever_."

"Calm down, Enguina," laughed Arwen.

"Keep your story!" Legolas laughed gaily, in too good of a mood to be put off by Enguina's irritation, and he squeezed her hand again, unwilling to let her go. "I will find better ways of embarrassing you, I am sure."

"You are excessively good at it," Aragorn pointed out, "much to Enguina's annoyance."

"Indeed," added Enguina. "Embarrassing the woman who wants to be your wife is not quite fair, you kna—" Her words cut off as he leaned in for a sudden kiss, drowning out her words and then releasing her. As she stared at him in surprise, Éomer and Faramir toasted to Legolas while the rest of the table laughed. Enguina's blush made Legolas grin like a fool.

"I know. I am a complete _troll_ ," he murmured low to her in her ear.

"Completely," she told him flatly, and he laughed, kissing her quickly again before he pulled back. She continued to stare at him for a moment, and then sighed, thinking of how much she adored him, even if he did embarrass her.

When the food was beginning to be cleared from the tables, Annî heard her mother talking with her Uncle about being tired and heading back to the house, but she remembered that _someone_ had made her a promise tonight. Suddenly, Annî leapt from her seat, running about the table towards Thranduil, who turned his head to look at her. He made no move to pick her up, even as she reached for him, trying to pull herself over the arm of the chair and into his lap.

"Andúnêiel," he said, his voice full of patience, "is there something you need?"

"Thandul!" she complained, and most of the table turned to look at her. "Thandul, you promised me that you would tell stories! Tell me stories!"

"I did?" he asked, and noticed that the table was staring at her. He raised his eyebrows at her, but eyed her solemnly. "Annî, I think you are mistaken."

"You _promised!_ " she said, her voice angry.

"Annî!" chastised Éowyn, staring wide-eyed at her. "That is not the proper way to behave at the table! And we do not yell at other guests!"

"She _is_ just two," Éomer said, nudging her.

"She still needs to respect others!" she said, horrified, her hands on her belly. "She does not belong climbing on laps without permission and hollering at Thranduil at the top of her voice!" She was astounded at her daughter's behavior as the little girl used the chair to climb up onto him, leaning her back against the table and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

" _Thandul_ ," Annî whined loudly, yet Thranduil continued to look at her.

"Faramir!" Éowyn said indignantly.

"Annî, your mother is talking to you," Faramir said firmly, and though she did not turn to look at her father, she lowered her head.

"Apologize to Thranduil," Éowyn said in her sternest voice and Annî continued sitting in his lap, touching the front of his tunic with her other hand. He had not moved; in fact, he was not even holding her. Legolas watched the exchange with interest, his father looking at the top of the girl's head as Éowyn's patience ran out. "Annî, we are going home this _instant_ if—"

" _Story_ …" the little girl whispered and Thranduil watched her shyly fingering the buttons on his tunic. He tilted his head down to look into her face.

"Can you ask me nicely?" he asked her softly, and she nodded, her thumb still in her mouth.

"Sorry, Mommy," she whispered. Then she looked up into Thranduil's face. "Can you tell me a story?" Her eyes were pitiful, but all he wanted was to teach the girl a bit of patience. He looked up towards Éowyn and nodded.

"I _did_ promise your daughter a story this afternoon, Éowyn, so a story I will tell," Thranduil said and Annî's head shot up to look at him, to listen to his words. "And what, my dear, should the story be about?"

"A Princess!"

"Like yourself?" he asked, and she nodded. "Very well. What else?"

"A horze!"

"Ah, the noble steed. Of course." She grinned hugely and Faramir sighed.

"Thranduil, do not feel as though you have to, please." Faramir did not want Annî to offend him, but the elf simply shook his head. "She can go without—"

"No, no…I made a promise and I must keep it, Faramir," he said, "if you will give me leave to tell her." The man nodded and Thranduil turned back to Annî. "Now, where does this story begin?"

"With the Princess!" cried Annî, bouncing herself on his leg. Thranduil may not have noticed, but the rest of the table took an immediate interest in what was going on with the story, especially as Thranduil had not had the best of days with Annî. After Thranduil's long pause, she squirmed in her seat, _very_ impatient.

"Once," he began, in his best storytelling voice, "in a land much like this one, there lived a young, beautiful princess. Her hair was long and red, as bright as sunlight," he added, touching Annî's hair as she giggled. "She was loved by all who knew her, and she had the best of everything. The one thing that she had that she loved the most was her horse, Beot. During the day she would ride him over the fields of the country in which she lived, her hair streaming behind her, carefree, as she never worried about anything. She lived to ride and discover the people of the countryside, for she found their lives, so very different from hers, very strange, indeed.

"Most especially, she thought the strangest was a young and very handsome farm boy who was a woodcutter. Each day, she would ride to where he was cutting down trees or carving and she would ask him what he was doing and why he was doing it. 'Farmboy,' she would say, 'why are you doing that?' He would reply, 'Watch and see, Princess. I am going to make something wonderful from this tree.' She would watch him a little while, thinking about how handsome he was, and then she would ride away confused for she never saw him make anything from the tree. Yet, every morning when she rode to where he was working there was a little something carved for her."

Enguina leaned on the table, watching his face as he spoke; Erumar was doing much the same. Everyone at the table was paying attention to his words, but Thranduil took little notice of them as he was focused on the story and the child before him.

"One day, the woodcutter did not see the princess and Beot pass by. He thought it strange, but he had been busily working with his knife, whittling away at some wood when he heard hoof beats. Lifting his head, he realized that it was Beot, rider-less, and he ran out suddenly to the horse. 'My Lady's horse!' he cried, seeing long deep furrows in the saddle and scratches on Beot's flanks. Even the sorrel's tail was singed."

Annî covered her mouth and squeaked; Thranduil paused and looked at her. "Where is the princess?" she asked. "Was Beot really hurt?"

"That," Thranduil said, continuing, "was when Beot spoke to the woodcutter for the first time. 'Oh woodcutter!' the horse cried. 'Terrible things have befallen the princess! She has been taken by the evil Dragon, Kesh, across the Great Sea, and he is a terrible and evil beast! No one is brave enough to save her, and even if there was such a man, they would surely never find a way across the Sea!' The horse was in so much despair that the woodcutter looked about at the trees around him and he said, 'I will build a boat. I, myself, shall save the princess!'

"And that very moment, the woodcutter began to fashion a ship just large enough for himself, the horse, and the princess. Beot refused to be left behind and told the woodcutter that a knight needed his noble steed, even if he was not truly a knight. So, the brave woodcutter and the horse worked day and night for a week on the ship—"

"How could Beot help?" Annî questioned, raising her hands in the air. "He has no hands!"

"The woodcutter would strap the horse to the trees and then Beot, with a mighty pull, would yank them out of the ground, Andúnêiel. When the ship was finally finished, the two of them set sail across the Great Sea to the Island of Silence where the beast lived."

Annî looked very worried, her hands in her mouth as the plates behind her on the table were removed by the ladies. Everyone else remained in their seats; there was very little talk around the table as each one sat and listened to the tale Thranduil was weaving. Again, he had no idea everyone was so enraptured, but he noticed Erumar's eyes on him.

"Why was it called that?" she asked, not really meaning to interrupt. "The Island of Silence?"

"Yes, _why_?" asked Annî, bouncing once on his leg.

He looked at her very gravely. "It was said that anyone who had ever ventured there was silenced forever by the dragon…and they never returned," he said, his voice low and quiet. "When Beot and the woodcutter arrived on the shore of the island, they disembarked from their ship and headed inland. The first trial they had to cross was a terribly disgusting-smelling swamp."

"Eww!" squealed Annî. "A _swamp_?"

"Yes. Then, they had to battle two monstrous and very ugly trolls, where the woodcutter was very glad he had Beot at his side. Once the trolls were out of the way, it was a straight journey inland to the dragon's lair. Carefully, they climbed the side of the mountain and made their way to the door and entered into the dungeon where they found the princess shackled to the wall. The woodcutter rushed inside, but he head the sounds of heavy breathing behind him, the rustling of wings, and he could see a reddish, unnatural light coming from near the stairs." Thranduil paused.

" _Look out!_ " Annî cried, getting to her knees on his lap. "The _dragon!_ "

"Yes, it was the dragon," whispered Thranduil. "Kesh was there, his terrible breath of fire and death waiting for the woodcutter." Thranduil's voice became very serious. "See, dragons are cunning and swift, and so Kesh hid very sneakily away from the woodcutter so that he could not see. The princess tried to warn him, but he did not listen, so afraid was he that she would be killed. He rode Beot forward to save her—" Annî gasped and so did Enguina—"and Kesh took a swipe at him with his dagger-like claws, slashing out and knocking him from the horse's back. The princess began to cry as the woodcutter lay still, gravely wounded by the dragon.

"Now there is something else to know about dragons, Andúnêiel," he said firmly. "Dragons are the most prideful creatures that exist in Middle-Earth. They believe they are never wrong, and sometimes they are prophetic about the future. This only makes them surer of themselves. So, when Kesh believed the woodcutter to be dead, he was very dead indeed. The dragon turned away, and that was the moment the woodcutter leapt from the stones and attacked the dreaded beast with his axes. Screaming a battle cry, the woodcutter lunged, even with a broken arm and partial blindness. The woodcutter fought, and even after an arduous battle, the dragon finally fell. Beot broke the shackles on the princess as the weak woodcutter fell to the ground.

"The princess rushed to hold her rescuer, but the woodcutter threw up a hand, shielding her from himself. 'No, my Lady,' he said, 'I am not worthy to look upon you. The fairest of the fair does not belong with one so scarred and ugly!' And indeed as the princess looked upon him, she saw he was scarred across the face and blinded by the dragon fire."

"Oh no!" cried Annî, gripping her face.

Thranduil was very serious as he began again, "The woodcutter thought for sure it was over, but the princess reached down and took his hands. She had come to learn of the woodcutter's kindness and bravery and goodness, and she knew that even if he was scarred, he was still the same man. She confessed, instead, that she loved him and that she would have him even if he was no longer handsome. After a time, the two of them and Beot sailed back from the Island of Silence, hand in hand in the boat that he had designed. And they would live happily together as rulers of their land for the rest of their days."

There was silence for a moment, then Annî said, "The end?"

Thranduil nodded, giving her a little smile. "Yes, the story is done."

" _Again!_ " she yelled, and the rest of the table suddenly clapped. Thranduil lifted his head suddenly and stared at them; he was clearly embarrassed by how quiet the table was and that they had listened to him, but it did not quite show on his face.

"That was an excellent story," Éomer said as Faramir began gathering Éowyn and their things. "In a few years, perhaps, you can make a journey to Rohan and tell my children bedtime stories."

"I could listen to you tell that again right now," Enguina said softly, staring at him.

"It was a wonderful story," agreed Erumar. "Did anyone know you were so talented?"

"It is the first in many, many years," Legolas said, and he, too, stared at Thranduil. His father would not turn and look at him, but he still wondered at the story; it was _familiar_. Annî had been trying to get his father to tell her a story since he arrived, but he had kept declining. He could not comprehend the sudden change of heart.

Annî saw her family begin to get to their feet and she suddenly reached for Thranduil's face. " _Again, please?_ " she begged, and just as she reached he immediately tugged his head back, lifting his chin out of her reach, and then took her hands to prevent her from grabbing his face in them. Faramir drew near and Thranduil looked at her very seriously.

"Some do not liked to be touched, child," he told her and when he released her hands, she stuck her thumb into her mouth. "Perhaps some other time," he said in response to her question as Faramir reached down and scooped her into his arms. She wrapped an arm around her father's neck.

Éowyn touched her arm, but was looking at Thranduil as she said, "What do we say, Annî, when someone does something kind for us?"

Annî pulled her thumb from her mouth long enough to say, "Thank you."

He gave her a little smile. "You are welcome, Andúnêiel."

"Yes, thank you, Thranduil," added Éowyn. Then she looked over towards Enguina and Legolas. "One more day?"

"One more day," Legolas laughed in agreement as he took Enguina's hand in his own.

"Good night, all of you," Aragorn said. "Until morning."

"I think I'll call it a night as well!" laughed Gimli as he got to his feet, and he clapped Thranduil on the shoulder. "Good story! I like that—she took him even though he felt he had nothing to give." The dwarf waved to the rest of them and then followed the family out.

After they had gone, the six of them remained seated. Erumar leaned forward, wrapping her hands around the mug of tea she held. "Legolas said your story was the first in a long time, yet you seem well-practiced. Do you have no cause to tell them?"

He gave her a little smile. "None at all," he admitted, "but I feel that some stories have a way of telling themselves. Have you never had this happen to you?"

"When my children were very young perhaps. Now they are grown and much wiser than I."

Thranduil smiled genuinely then. "That is how I feel about Legolas."

"I am in no way wiser than you," Legolas protested, but softly. "If anything, I am more foolish. You were there in the battles of Dol Guldur, the Five Armies, and even back to the Last Alliance and before. No, Adar, you are far wiser than I."

"Wars do not make one wise, Legolas," Thranduil replied, leaning back in his chair. "They give one experience. I have done many foolish things in my life and it is guaranteed I shall do many more."

"I hope _Legolas_ does," Enguina said, trying to make the conversation a bit lighter. He glanced over at her and she smiled sweetly at him. "I want to laugh at him."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Did you not have enough of that today?"

"No, not _nearly_ enough, when you have all these occasions to laugh at me."

Arwen smiled. "You two are too much on each other."

"You know," Erumar said thoughtfully, "I have an idea that might help the two of you laugh at each other, if that is what you really want."

"What is it?" asked Legolas.

" _No,_ " Enguina said immediately, shaking her head. "Anything that he is interested in hearing more about, I am for the opposite. I want to laugh at _him_ , but not at the expense of myself."

Legolas burst out laughing. "Oh, Erumar, tell! She is being snobbish."

Erumar smiled at her as Enguina stared open-mouthed at Legolas. "He is _right_ , you know. I was thinking that sometime, perhaps even after the wedding, we could take some time and tell some funny stories about you both. Those who know Legolas very well can tell stories about him—"

"And _we_ could tell hilarious stories about Enguina!" Arwen laughed, clapping her hands once. "This would be perfect!"

" _No_ ," both Legolas and Enguina said at once.

"That is a _terrible_ idea," Legolas added.

"What were you _thinking_ , Erumar?" asked a horrified Enguina.

"Really, you two," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow. "It is not as though they have sentenced you to death. Let them have their—"

" _Moreover_ ," Legolas interrupted, "Enguina and I have plans tomorrow night."

"You do?" asked Erumar, her voice so serious Arwen almost believed she trusted Legolas's word.

"Yes, of course we do," agreed Enguina.

"Yes, night before the wedding and all that," muttered Thranduil, rolling his eyes.

"Yes," added Legolas, "we are going to spend the whole night staring into each other's eyes until the morning light." He said this with a smirk and Aragorn reached over and punched him in the arm. "Ouch!"

"Do _not_ make fun."

"Can I not have a little fun?"

"Not about that," Aragorn stated. "We may have forgotten entirely about the wedding if not—"

"For Gimli?" interrupted Enguina with a stolen smile to Arwen. "Yes, I heard that one, as well."

"I honestly _was_ thinking of taking Enguina for a ride near the Anduin," he said, looking at Erumar. "But…I will comply if you all would really want to—"

Erumar held up a hand. "It was a suggestion! It was hardly a demand; I thought it might make you both laugh before the wedding to hear some stories of each other, and I _did_ offer for us to do it _after_ the wedding. It need not be before."

Legolas sighed. "As long as I have time to give Enguina her wedding gift, I will enjoy the time, I am sure, though…I think it might be best to do it after the wedding."

"You are giving your wedding gifts before the wedding?" asked Erumar, confused.

"Yes," replied Enguina, looking unsure. "Is that wrong?"

"No, no, there is no _wrong_ , Enguina," she said softly. "Just…not traditional."

Legolas laughed. "We are nothing if not-traditional."

"Though I _tried_ ," insisted Enguina, rolling her eyes.

Aragorn laughed. "Arwen and I had no wedding gifts for each other at all. There was no time, and we gave them long after the wedding." He gave them a smile. "Furthermore, I think the giving of gifts should be before or after the wedding not the night of; it will give you more time to focus on each other, not the gifts."

"I am _embarrassed_ by this conversation," Enguina said, and then sighed, looking at Legolas. "I will go along with it _after_ the wedding…as long as there are an even number of stories and _no one_ tells that _particular_ story…"

"You can tell Legolas that one later, if you see fit," Erumar reassured her.

"Am I invited?" asked Thranduil. "I may have a story or two to contribute." Legolas groaned and Thranduil shared a little smirk with Erumar; this did _not_ go unnoticed by Arwen and Enguina.

Arwen sighed, smiling. "I cannot believe there is only one more day until the wedding."

"I never thought I would see the day," murmured Erumar, reaching across the table and touching Enguina's hand. "I am glad to be here, to share in your joy."

"I did not think I would see it either," said Thranduil, looking over at Enguina and his son. "It is something I have always hoped for, but never thought would happen. But…this woman…" His eyes fell on Enguina and she blushed. "She is something _more_. She makes _you_ something more, Legolas. I am grateful for this…" He gave Enguina a little smile. "I am grateful for you, my dear. My son has found his happiness, his heart. He was content before now, but not happy. Now, he is not who he used to be. He is something more." He did not know how else to describe it.

"I _am_ right here, you know," Legolas said wryly, but Thranduil ignored him, still watching her.

"I…" she stuttered, embarrassed, "I do not know what to say."

"Say nothing," Thranduil said, leaning back in his chair again. He crossed his legs and looked down at the table, his sharp eyes becoming particularly interested in the pattern on the silverware as he fingered it.

"I _am_ happy," Legolas said softly, and Enguina looked at him, "and I _am_ different with you here at my side. Everything is new." He laughed, squeezing her hand. "It should _not_ be, but it _is_ , and I love it." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Aragorn smiled and tapped the table with his fingers. "I think it is a nice evening for a walk in the garden. How about we leave these two lovebirds and take to the flowers?"

"I suppose we are pretty obvious," said Legolas as Enguina blushed.

"We do not mean to act as though we do not wish your company."

"We are unoffended," reminded Aragorn. "I was only teasing."

"We did not show you the gardens yet today, Erumar," offered Arwen, and Thranduil lifted his head.

"You have not yet shown her the gardens?" asked Thranduil incredulously. "Whyever not? Nearly all the beauty Minas Tirith has to offer is found within them."

Erumar laughed, a sound of tinkling bells to Thranduil's ears, and he smiled in surprise. "I suppose I must see the gardens. May I walk with you?"

"Please," Aragorn said, and rose, looking pointedly at Thranduil. "Join us, Thranduil. Legolas, Enguina, we will see you for breakfast?"

"Yes," Legolas said, answering for them. He was not about to hide the thought that he very much wanted to be alone with her. "We will see you in the morning—"

"Erumar, do not forget," Enguina said quickly, "about tomorrow after breakfast and service."

"Oh, yes," added Arwen. "We will be there."

"Be where?" asked Legolas, sitting forward.

"Never you mind," Enguina stated, and he rolled his eyes. "You _do_ however, need to find something to do with yourself after breakfast tomorrow that does not require me to be there."

"That should not be a problem, to be honest," Legolas admitted. "In fact, it will work out quite perfectly. I have something I need to finish."

"Finish?"

Legolas smiled wryly. "'Never you mind.'"

* * *

Aragorn and Arwen had turned in for the night, but Thranduil had offered to walk Erumar to the guesthouse where she would be staying. She thought that was kind of him. They were walking slowly beside one another, and she had to admit that he had been right—the garden was the most beautiful place in all of Minas Tirith. They had not seen every bit of it, but what they had she could not help but admire; the beauty of Minas Tirith distracted her and yet…she could not help but notice the man who walked beside her just as much.

She was, in fact, _very_ aware of him. Trying to be discreet, she took him in with her eyes, following the line of his neck, his chin, his jaw, his nose, his eyes. He had a strong, handsome face, proud and stern. She knew this from his shortness with Annî this morning; he had a temper that could be very cold…possibly even terrifying to witness if he was truly angry. His smile, when genuine, lit his eyes—she had seen this at dinner, and several times as they walked with Aragorn and Arwen tonight—and made him come alive. His laugh was comfortable and kind. He had a passion for flowers. He was the king of a realm. He enjoyed beautiful things. He was _very_ tall, a whole head-and-a-half taller than she was!

Why was she even listing these things about him in her head? He spoke, and it broke her thoughts; she had to pay attention to him.

"I often walk at night and look at the stars," he said, and his voice was soft and thoughtful. "They are brighter here, in Minas Tirith, than at home. Is that not odd?"

"Perhaps it is because you are closer to them here," she offered. "You are on a mountain top, where in the Greenwood you are hidden beneath the trees." She looked at his profile again. "Or it could be that your perspective here is different."

He nodded. "I think it is the latter, not the former. Do you look at the stars, Erumar?"

"I have not in a very long time," she replied truthfully, but she slowed near the wall and turned out to gaze across the Pelennor and the moonlight, glancing up at the stars he was speaking of as she rested her hands on the stone. "They do shine more brightly here," she agreed softly. "I…have not seen them in so long. I suppose I had no cause to look."

"Such as my storytelling."

He was teasing her, and she smiled. "Yes. It was a _wonderful_ story. I do not know if Annî understood it past her childish interest in a tale of adventure, but it was beautiful. The princess turned out to be quite wise, and yet, I had expected her to remain a simple damsel in distress."

He rested his elbows on the wall, his perfect posture gone for a moment. "The story rings with some truth, yes? That is why everyone enjoyed the tale. We all bear scars of our…misadventures, and everyone at that table has been seen through by someone, seen for who they are." He sighed. "I am not sure what I set out to tell, but…it was well-suited for the company."

She looked away from his face, back to the stars and sighed softly herself. "I would agree with you, Thranduil…everyone bears scars." She paused and then continued. "When I said that I was happy for Enguina, I meant it. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see her so changed. She is so different than she has been these past years, and Legolas looks upon her with such _eyes_ …" She shook her head. "One would have to be completely dull to not see their love for one another."

"Enguina spoke only briefly of those scars," he replied, knowing that it was clear she was steering the conversation from herself. "Legolas bears some of his own, though they are nothing like hers. She is more closed than he is; that makes him very good for her."

She smiled and looked at him again. "Legolas is very open; he hides nothing. That frankness is refreshing, and for someone like her, a gift. You are right; they are good for each other. He draws her out, opens her like a flower."

He smiled. "I like your analogy."

"You love him very much," she stated. "Is he your only son?"

He nodded. "I do love him, though he is often headstrong and stubborn," he laughed softly. "Much too like myself: overprotective and fiercely defensive of those he loves. He would like to pretend he did _not_ inherit that from me. Yes, yes…he is my only son." He smiled. "I suppose I would be remiss if I did not mention Tauriel in conjunction with him. She is not my daughter, but I raised her as one. She remained in the Greenwood for its defense though she wanted very much to be here. The spiders can still be a bit of a nuisance." He looked at her. "And _you_ mentioned your children briefly at dinner."

She smiled, and he noticed it was wistful. "I have four children, and they are scattered to the winds. Macarion, Elentara, and Hrivë have left these shores for the Undying Lands not seven years ago. Aelin married and is living in East Lórien, though how long they will remain I do not know. She was speaking of leaving when the others did, but I do not know if she has gone. Part of my heart misses them…and part of it is glad they have found peace."

"That is the challenge of having children I suppose," Thranduil said thoughtfully. "You want to see them succeed, to do what is right, yet we have a difficult time doing that, of letting go." Thranduil hesitated, and then asked. "You did not go with them. What made you stay?"

He noticed her fingers tighten on the stone and the skin around her eyes tense. "I do not know." Her heart flooded with such weight in that moment, she thought her knees would buckle. Memories, slow and torturous filled her and she tried desperately to drive them back, looking immediately away from his eyes and down at her hands. The brittle shell she had built vibrated under the strain.

"It has been," he said gently, "a very long day. You must be tired. Let us finish the walk to your quarters so you can rest." She glanced at him and saw he had offered an arm. She was so grateful for it that she could have cried; she would not make it to the house without holding on to something. As the two of them walked away from the wall, she kept her eyes trained on the stones, not on him. He was too good a reader; he knew very well something was not right, just as she knew it about him. Both wanted to ask; both said nothing.

"Thank you," she whispered and he nodded.

He walked her home.


	48. Chapter 48

Enguina leaned back against Legolas's chest, her feet tucked beneath her, his arms around her as they sat together on the divan. She reached up behind her and stroked his chin with her fingers, smiling. Nearly asleep, as they had been quiet for some time, the touch was welcome on his face.

"Legolas," she asked softly, "when did you know that you loved me?"

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers on his chin, his jaw, and his cheek, and thinking about the answer to her question. "I felt the beginnings of it when I first saw you enter Minas Tirith," he said honestly. "I knew I was drawn to you before I met you, but I am fairly certain that I fell in love with you between the night we spent bantering with each other and the trip to the market."

She laughed. "What a disaster _that_ was."

"No, _moina_ , just the part with Dagnirhir. But you did ask about the moment I _knew_ I was in love. I think I realized it after I discovered how terribly protective I was of you." He toyed with the edges of her hair. "And you? When did you know?"

"You mean I am in love with _you_?" she questioned, teasing him, and he tugged the hair he had been playing with. "I began when we were fooling about in the snow and then by the fire that night, soaking wet in the King's House, but I could not admit it to myself then. No, I think I realized the way I felt when you named me 'Guin.' Even though I was afraid of those feelings, I saw it for what it was. I was in love with you then. Even if I was terrified…and still am sometimes." She admitted the last softly.

He smiled and kissed her temple as her fingers continued to trace his skin. "Sometimes I am afraid of my feelings for you as well."

She turned her head to give him an incredulous look. "You are?"

"Yes," he told her. "Enguina, before you arrived, I was _content_. I was perfectly happy to spend the rest of my days comfortably in Ithilien almost completely on my own, visiting Gimli and Minas Tirith often." He bumped her chin with a finger. "But then you came through that _gate_ and I saw you, and nothing could have ever been the same. I felt as though there was a hole in my chest that I would not be able to fill unless I spoke with you, was privileged to know you. There was an emptiness in me that I did not know anything about, that I had not discovered until I was already in love with you. That emptiness can never be filled unless you are beside me."

Enguina stared at him. "I…the way you speak is so…incredibly romantic."

He laughed softly. "Yet every word I speak is true."

"That is what makes it so wonderful. This… _you_ …are not make-believe."

"I could never pretend about something that makes me feel like this. Oh, one more day until we will be bound as one for eternity. One more day until I can show you the love you deserve—"

"The love _you_ deserve, too," she whispered, stroking his jaw again. "You should have that same love that you are going to so willingly shower upon me."

He smiled at her. "I suppose I should," he teased. "I _do_ want you to love me that way as well. It is the image of your love that makes me desire you more."

Touching the end of his nose softly, she whispered, "I do not think anything would make you desire me more."

He laughed, and it was so sudden that she startled. "Oh, love, you have no idea the effect you have on me. But you will…someday soon you will and then life will never be the same." Legolas's arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder again.

"It is so _late_. Perhaps we should lie down and try to sleep. One day closer to the wedding."

"You really are _not_ going to tell me what you are doing tomorrow, are you?"

"Most certainly not."

He rolled his eyes. "Why can I not know? Why must you torture me?"

"It amuses me," she teased. "And you, I am sure, have far more horrid things planned for me at some point, so do not push me, or tempt me to do worse."

"I suppose you must keep a secret or two, yet you are probably right about the horrid things."

"I was giving an example. I was not serious."

"Mmmm…" he muttered, and dragged her slowly over with him, stretching out along the divan so that her back was to him still. He reached over and slipped a blanket over her feet and she smiled.

"Oh, how I love you," she whispered, and he pressed his lips to her temple.

"I just remembered something important I wanted to tell you," he said softly and she tilted her head towards him as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Well, perhaps not tell…perhaps _discuss_ is the word."

"What is it?" she asked, lifting a hand to stroke his thought-filled face.

"I… _noticed_ something between us," he said softly. "This is going to sound very strange, and…it _is_ strange, but Aragorn seems to think it might help us on our wedding night, and I am inclined to try just about anything that might do us good." He sighed and she gave him a little grin.

"Usually," she teased him gently, "I am the one who babbles."

He rolled his eyes. "I do _not_ babble."

"And aside from the babbling, Aragorn gave you advice for _our_ wedding night?" She was amused, and he could tell that she was practically laughing at him.

"You are awfully mean tonight," he said.

"I am not mean!"

"I will allow the 'not mean,' but you _are_ laughing at me," he said, "and I am trying to be serious. Aragorn was only trying to help."

"Yes, I know," she said, "the best of men." There was no tease in her voice then as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell me what is troubling you so. I am not going to laugh at you, even if it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard; not if you are serious about it." He was silent for a moment.

"It is so strange!" he exclaimed softly. "I barely know what to say…how to describe it to you…where to begin." He sighed again. "I suppose I should start with the first time I…the first time I _felt_ it, heard it. Do you recall the day that I told you I was determined to be a part of your life?"

She smiled. "How does one forget a defining moment of their existence? It was the same day you kissed me the second through twelfth times, the day we made lamb stew together, the day Aragorn assigned someone to watch my door, the day—"

"You remember all of that?"

She laughed. "Well, yes! Especially the kisses."

He shook his head in awe of her. "You actually counted them?"

"The first hundred," she answered, turning her head to kiss his chin. "After that, somewhere along the journey home, I lost count."

"It was also the day that Dagnirhir tried to take you from the market."

She sighed. "You _had_ to—"

"Yes," he insisted. "I needed to remind you because that was the first time it happened."

Enguina looked up at him. " _It_?"

"Yes, though there were several times after that. Let me explain. When I came down the steps from the Butchers' shop, I realized that you were missing. Though I was terrified for you, it was nothing compared to the shock that went through my chest when I… _heard_ you call my name."

"I did call for you," she said. "I remember screaming for you quite loudly."

"No, this was…it was different. It was from _inside._ It was inside my _head_ …in my heart."

"In your—? What?" She was clearly confused. He tried to find a way to explain.

"Guin, when you were taken, you _called_ for me, but it was not out loud. I heard it in my head; your voice was powerful when it called my name, and along with it came emotions of terror and pain. I knew you were in terrible trouble."

"You…you _heard_ me? You heard me call for you?" she asked, and her fingers stilled on his face, shock registering on hers.

"It was the first time, but it was not the last," he admitted. "Whenever you have felt in danger, many of the nights you have dreamed, when you were held captive by Calendur, when you were…taken by Bragolaur…" he hesitated, and then plowed on. "I heard you call me, call my heart; I felt your pain, your sadness, your fear, even your agony and despair at times. I could hear you in my head, even if you never called for me out loud. I do not know why; I do not know if you—"

"I did," she whispered, stunned. "I _did_ call for you in my heart. Sometimes over and over…I did not know…I did not know such a thing was possible!"

"I honestly do not understand it. I only know it has happened; that it continues to happen." She touched his chest with her fingers, and her eyes flooded with tears before she could close them fast enough so he would not see them. "What is it?"

"You _felt_ …what I _felt…_?"

He covered her hand with his. "I _want_ to share your burdens."

" _Oh, Legolas…_ "

He pulled her more tightly against him. "You _called_ for me…you _needed_ me. And I came."

"It must have been so _awful_ ," she whispered, horrified. "How could you bear—? _Why_ did you not tell me? I could have prevented myself, I—"

"No, that would only have been worse!" he groaned. "Do you not understand? The only thing I want is to protect you; to have you hide it only to discover it later would be so much worse."

"You should _never_ have had to… _feel_ that…" she whispered.

"That was not the worst part," he said gently, wiping beneath her eyes. "The moment that was so awful I could not bear it was that night in Henneth Annûn. That night when we laid side-by-side and I could not calm you. You called for me, you were continually calling for me in your head, over and over, but with your words and hands you sent me from you. _That_ I could not bear."

The guilt that washed over her was painful. She was reminded of Aragorn's words to her, that she was tearing Legolas's heart to pieces. Now she knew why, she _understood_ why, and it made her cold inside. " _Ilúvatar, forgive me_ ," she murmured. "I am so sorry! If I had only _known_ I—"

"It has been long past," he told her, "all is forgiven. I know that I can hear you, feel you in my heart. I…I do not know if this flow, this force, this—I do not know, power?—works so that you can hear me."

Enguina looked at him a moment and then her mouth fell open. " _You_ called to _me_ ," she gasped. "One of the last days you were captured and Gimli and I were looking for you! Youcalled to me and I heard you that night. I remember the way it felt; I could not feel what you felt, but I could hear you calling in my head, a pull on my heart that we were headed the right direction."

"Yes," Legolas agreed with a smile. "Yes, that is what I mean. So you _have_ felt it as well; I had hoped you would not think me mad."

"I did not know what it was that I was hearing; I had forgotten all about the call in all of the chaos that ensued afterwards. What does it _mean_?" she asked, so unsure. "How can we… _feel_ each other?"

"I do not know," Legolas replied, shaking his head, but with a few fingers he stroked her cheek. "But I think it is a blessing."

"How can you, feeling my pain, be a blessing?"

"I will know when you are hurting, and I will be able to stop it," he said firmly. "You will not be able to hide anymore, but it is not only that, Guin."

"What does this strange connection have to do with Aragorn?" she asked, confused.

"I asked him about it, months ago," he explained. "I told him what I felt, and I asked him if I should tell you. I asked him what he thought about it."

"You told _him_? And not me?" She shook her head, nibbling her lower lip. "You and Arwen…tell Aragorn everything." She could not help the bitterness in her voice as she said it.

"Without Aragorn, many things might have been very different," he told her gently. "You should be grateful for the relationship Arwen has with her husband."

"Do not chastise me right now," she sighed. "I _know_ , and I _am_ grateful. It just seems that he knows everything before I do."

Legolas smiled. "Aragorn advised that it might not be the best idea to share it just before we pledged ourselves to one another. Remember, I was afraid you would think me mad. Aragorn told me then that he and Arwen share a similar bond."

"They do?" she asked, incredulous. "How have I never heard of this before? Why did Arwen never mention it?"

"I think perhaps they thought that none of us would understand," he admitted, "and that we might think _them_ mad. But Aragorn said something the other evening that made me think it might help to tell you about it. He told me that there is a possibility that we could…well, open ourselves to it somehow. That way, I would be present in your mind, and you in mine."

She stared at him. "That is… _possible_? I would feel you all the time?"

Legolas nodded. "I think so. He said that he and Arwen share feelings, even _thoughts_ with each other. It has deepened their bond in an incredible way. Aragorn did not speak much in detail, but I know that it must be very powerful. He explained the night you sat with Arwen after they had lost the child, and he could feel her in the room. He knew exactly what she was feeling, what she needed. To me, that would very much be a blessing. And it may, very much, help us tomorrow night; if you can _feel_ me…in your head…you cannot possibly think of him."

"How? How can we do this? Can we try it?"

Legolas winced. "You and Arwen showed up at the House the other night before I was able to ask him about that. Perhaps if you simply _think_ to me as you have been doing—"

"But I did not _know_ I was calling you," she murmured, sighing. "How can I…perhaps we should try it now and then—"

"Honestly, I do not think that is a good idea," he admitted. "I am not entirely sure you have any desire to know what I am thinking…and I do not think I _want_ you to know at the moment." She smiled at him and he laughed softly. "I think, if anything, we should try it when we are _not_ trying to sleep…and not lying here, tangled in each other's arms."

Her smile grew even wider as she looked into his face though her eyes narrowed. "I know what you are thinking right now, and you are not trying to communicate with me."

"You do?" he said, leaning a bit closer with a smile of his own. "And what am I thinking, _moina_?"

"You are thinking about kissing me," she murmured, pressing her lips to his chin as her fingers held him there before he could tug back. " _Kiss me, Legolas…_ " He gave in to her, wanting to do it as much as she wanted him to. He leaned into her as the kiss grew longer and his arms became a bit tighter, the back of her head pressing down into the divan. He _knew_ he should not, knew very well they should not tempt themselves. _One more night—can you not wait one more night?_ Ugh…he did _not_ want to wait anymore!

 _Legolas…_

The word was drawn out, low, seductive and it wormed its way through his brain—and set his head on fire with a rush of feeling that was _not_ his own. Immediately, he knew that it was what _Enguina_ was feeling that was pouring through him in a rush, an outpouring of joy, love, and desire. It flooded him, melted even his bones until he could hardly think when his brain turned to mush in his head. Gathering thought after such a flood of feelings that were not his own was so difficult he barely wanted to do it. But…he physically pulled back. It was a smooth transition, however, so she did not realize he was doing it out of propriety, out of a desire to not lose his self-control again. He found his hand cupping her face, her fingers still holding his chin as he watched her blink slowly, as if rising from deep water or sound sleep.

"It worked…did it not?" He felt her fingers release his chin and rest against his chest. He knew there would be no way he could answer untruthfully—not when she could feel and hear his heart racing.

"It would be no use to lie to you," he whispered when he had discovered his voice. He felt as though his whole body had been set aflame again, and he was tempted to ask his father tomorrow if this was entirely normal; if it was all right for a man to be feeling this way before the wedding. Perhaps he _should_ stay as far away as possible…

"Tell me what you felt," she whispered back, and her eyes were full of a desire to know what he had felt from her, to know that he had not only felt pain through that bond, but that he had felt her love.

"I should not," he murmured honestly.

" _Please_ ," she begged him, and he closed his eyes and let his breath out.

"If I did not already know," he whispered low, "I could say that I now understand what you feel for me, the power of your love, your joy in me…and yes, your desire." He watched her swallow. "That was…cruel."

She blushed, looking away. "I…I did not mean to be cruel," she said, feeling a bit miserable. "I was so…I wanted to try it…"

"It was, _is_ awful…you are tormenting me."

Her face became rather horrified. "I am so _sorry_ if I hurt—"

"No, you did not hurt me," he told her firmly. "I am hardly tormented as if I were in pain. It…you should not do that to me. Heaven above, if I had felt that, been connected to you and was half out of my mind, not the man I am, I might have been all over you. Guin, you cannot see yourself clearly through my head; you cannot understand what it is you do to me. You cannot even begin to comprehend what it felt like."

"I would," she offered, "if you would try to call to me at the same time."

He laughed outright, even his ears turning a tinge of pink. "O! I do not think so!"

"I am serious!"

"Oh, so am I." He kissed her roughly on the forehead and looked directly into her eyes. "Good _night_ , my Guin. My lovely, _lovely_ Guin." She laughed as he dropped his head to the divan behind her shoulder and closed his eyes, tightening his grip on her but refusing to look at her again.

"My, my…" she said lightly as she laid her head down but resting her hands over his. "You are a bit touchy this evening, are you not? Why will you not show me—"

"I will," he said, "but not tonight. I will not try it."

"But you promise you will."

"Oh yes…I will." The way he whispered the words made her shiver in his arms as his breath touched the back of her neck. He tightened his arms around her and drew her back against him.

"I am sorry that you were unprepared for the touch of my mind on yours," she said gently, and he shook his head.

"If I had been completely unaware, my response might have been very wild."

" _Wild_?" she giggled, quoting him.

"Stop _teasing_ me, laughing at me."

"Will _you_ stop teasing _me_?"

He snorted. "Never."

"Then I suppose you are going to have to live with this one time."

"You are… _excessively_ cruel tonight." She felt him move as he propped himself up again. "And you know what?"

"What?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed, but unable to keep the smirk off her face.

"I want to sleep on the _outside_."

"What—"

She felt herself lifted bodily, his hands tightening, dragging her back onto his chest and holding her to him so he could scoot underneath her. She began laughing half-way through the movement, unable to contain herself that he was so silly as he rolled her up and over his body, wedging her between himself and the back of the divan. He straightened out behind her and continued to hold her, giving her just enough room to breathe.

"There now."

She huffed out her breath. "You are…completely and utterly ridiculous."

He laughed softly in her ear. "Come now, you enjoyed it. You like a bit of silliness now and again. No pretending. Moreover, this way, if you move during the night, you shall not fall on the floor."

"Oh, my strong protector. How shall I ever thank you?"

"A kiss and a good night," he whispered, his face much closer to her cheek than she thought.

She turned her head and kissed him gently. "Good night, meleth."

"Good night, my Guin."

* * *

There was more mist this morning and though Erumar thought it suited her mood, she felt it was not appropriate weather for a wedding to take place tomorrow. The sun should have been joyously out. She probably should have been at service this morning with the others, but she simply did not have it in her to sing songs to the One this morning. That, in itself, made her feel wretched.

She had not felt this miserable, this awful for several months. Usually, she felt nothing, and that nothingness was enough to sustain her through the days. But feeling wretched? These thoughts were enough to make her toss herself over the edge of the wall she sat upon. Oh yes, seven levels and a sudden stop would put an end to everything she did not want to think about. There were no guards about in this early morning gloom, no one to see her, no one would even think twice until they found her body somewhere on the first level—if she made it that far without hitting something. She rested her head in her hands, her legs curled beneath her.

The hours of the evening had been spent in memory of Haldir; she had not found one bit of sleep. Plagued by these waking dreams that she was powerless to stop, she was completely ragged, exhausted this morning. Once the memories began, she could not stop them, like a book with someone else turning the pages. Most of the night she had spent in tears, stifling her sobs in the pillow beneath her face. She had no idea when she had come here to sit by the Embrasure, and the morning was passing very slowly, her thoughts still not entirely her own. Aside from the memories, there were recollections of the past seven years: the grief that had destroyed her heart, the inability to help Enguina conquer the nightmares she had continued to face, the loss of her children to Valinor, her failure to be taken by death when she had sought it for so long. These long lists of painful memories warped her perceptions. She had thought coming to Minas Tirith, to be here in celebration might help to return her to… _some_ form of the life she had led before. But the _loneliness…_ and most of it was self-imposed like this morning or last night when Thranduil had walked her to her quarters.

 _Oh, Ilúvatar…what in the name of Heaven do you have planned for me? I have been so long in despair that I feel as though I am trapped under deep water. I have nothing to give you, bring you. I cannot worship in this dark valley, in this place; the shadows tear at my heart. Haldir's love, such as it was, sustained me. I had a reason for breathing, living. We had each other, our children…to be without them now… My heart is a gaping wound that salt is continually being poured into. Is there no escape? Can you give me no promise of hope?_

She lifted her head from her hands and stared blindly at her scarred hands as she rubbed her thumbs against her fingertips. It was a pointless activity; they were numb…they had been since she had—no, she could not think about that night when Enguina had found her. Instead, she blanked her mind and left her head bowed as the mist began to finally clear, though the clouds remained.

"It is a quiet and gloomy morning this day," a voice spoke calmly from off to her right, over her shoulder. She did not startle, she was too far into the blindness. Instead, Erumar began to lift her head slowly, trying to draw herself out of the state of stillness. "I asked Ilúvatar for sun and he gives me clouds and a chill. There needs to be sun in the sky tomorrow; not for me…my son is getting married."

Finally, she had turned her head enough to see him. Thranduil stood, his hands behind his back as he had been looking at the sky with irritation. He lowered his chin, still holding that perfect posture she was nowhere near this morning as she remained, slumped towards one side, hands in her lap. He gazed at her then, those green eyes missing nothing, from the set of her weary shoulders to the redness of her eyes. She said nothing; at that moment she found she could not. She swallowed, trying to gather her wits, not yet ready for speech. Erumar had not expected company.

"May I?" he asked softly, inclining his head to the stretch of wall beside her. She wanted to say no, but could think of no good reason to tell him otherwise. He was just as able to sit upon the wall as she was; who was she to tell him no? She dipped her chin only slightly to indicate a yes, and he sat beside her, facing the gardens and the White Tower as she faced out towards the Pelennor.

Clearing her throat without making noise proved to be a bit of a challenge, but she managed, finally finding her voice. "I am quite terrible company this morning."

He sighed, giving her the tiniest bit of a smile. "As am I…perhaps we will make each other good company." Without giving her time to reply or refute him or even think about what he had said, he continued, "I take it you did not attend service either."

"I…could not."

"Nor I. I do not know when I last said a prayer." She looked at the side of his face as he stared at the Tower. It was still a proud, handsome face, but it was lined with sadness. "I have found it difficult to praise him, though I should if for nothing but my son's happiness alone."

"Did you not ask Ilúvatar for sun this morning?"

"Yes, but requests are not praise…" He looked down, still not looking into her eyes. "It seems far too often I feel abandoned by Ilúvatar when I should feel him closest, when I should wrap him around me as a shield." He hesitated, looking as though he thought he may have said too much. Then, he raised his eyes to hers. "Do you understand?"

She hesitated as well; give away too much and he would be gone. Now that he was here, she clung to his shred of company like the last leaf to a tree in autumn. "I do," she said, her voice soft and reflective. He nodded, glanced down, then back to her eyes.

"Are you wishing me gone?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I was," she admitted, "but now I…"

"Yes," he agreed, nodding again, "I understand that feeling of wishing to be alone and then wishing with all your heart you were not so overwhelmed with loneliness. When I saw you here as I left the gardens, I did not know whether to come or to leave you alone with your thoughts."

"You could have," she whispered. "I would have never known your indecision."

"I could not stop thinking of you last night," he said honestly, and her eyes did not prevent him from seeing her surprise at his words. "I could not get your eyes out of my mind, so full of pain. I am used to seeing that, but only in my own reflection, not in the face of another. And here, this morning, your eyes are the same." He looked as though he wanted to say more and she looked away, thinking she would be blinking back tears at his words but instead she just felt an aching in her chest—salt in the wound. "I feel as though I wronged you last night," he said and her brow furrowed at his words. "I knew you were in pain," he said softly, "yet, I left you alone. I have been…too concerned with my own affairs and have tried little to be near others. I must beg your forgiveness; if I were any sort of person I would not have left you that way no matter what you had said."

"I…" she stuttered over the words, surprised at his frankness, his open berating of himself and his deeds. "I could not have spoken last night. It was not your fault. I would have turned you aside readily if you had asked. Do not deride yourself on my account, my Lord."

Thranduil set his hand down on the stone between them, the perfect posture gone entirely as he leaned back on it, closer to her, and she looked down at his fingers. "Please… _Thranduil_ ," he said, and she looked back into his face.

"Thranduil."

"Still, I seek your forgiveness, even if you think I do not need it. I was wrong; one should always confess when they are wrong."

"That is a highly valued trait," she said softly, "and not had by many. You are forgiven, Thranduil though no matter what you had asked, I could never have answered."

He looked at her. "You have had a very long night."

She felt a twinge of pain inside her as he spoke the words. Why should she lie? "Yes."

His eyes were sad. "A…shroud of death clings to you, Erumar," he whispered, and she found her eyes drawn to his. "I recognize that shroud; I understand it. You have lost someone you loved, yet you remain."

She stared at him. "I—" her voice cut off and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "How could you know that?"

"Because we are _both_ broken," he said, sorrow flooding his voice. "I have lost someone, yet I remain, trapped within this world. I have no desire to sail, yet at times I have no will to live. I can see this same war in you, in your gaze. You cannot let go of the past, yet you struggle to live in the present." His eyes bore his sorrow, but his voice was a bit stronger. "I have asked Ilúvatar, _so many times_ , to either give me a reason to live or to take me—"

"Yes," she said, and she looked down at his hand again, " _yes_. That is what I have felt." They were silent for a moment, not knowing that the other was thinking of just how many times they had tried to lay themselves down. "You have lost…someone?"

"My…" he stumbled over the word, but then forced it out, "wife. Long, long ago, yet the pain is fresh and new each morning. It takes hold in my heart; it has never let go. Though, when I force myself, I can appear a bit more… _normal_."

"My husband," she whispered, feeling the pain flow through her at the word. "A little over seven years ago, in the War. Sometimes, my heart wants to simply stop beating, and I have to remind myself to breathe."

"Yet we are still here," he said, and she nodded, looking back into his face.

"He has not told me why."

"Nor me," he added. The two of them sat beside each other in silence for a moment, even as they looked into one another's eyes. "Erumar, may I tell you something?" he asked, and she nodded. "I have been feeling drawn to you. I did not understand what it was I was feeling at first, but I think I do now. We are…connected, somehow. Perhaps in our grief, I do not know. I do know that I feel as though I know you, or at least I understand your grief so well that I feel as though I do." She had not looked away, but she had not spoken either and he looked a bit embarrassed at his declaration. There were words that had gone unspoken, but she heard them anyway. _I feel as though we were meant to meet._ "Perhaps I—"

"No," she interrupted him gently, "no. You are right, Thranduil. I felt it as strongly as you but you are far wiser than I." She shook her head. "I would not have known it for what it was."

"I _am_ far older than you," he said, and she smiled.

"Age alone does not make one wise, just as wars do not."

He found himself smiling back. "Is that not truth?" he sighed.

"Yet, you do have much wisdom, Thranduil, and character. You are here, in this moment, taking the time to talk to me, to spend a few moments with a widow when you could be enjoying the day."

"I…find I _am_ enjoying the day," he said honestly. She wanted to look away but she could not. He was silent for a moment and then he asked, "Can we talk again sometime, serious, like this? I…barely, rarely if ever, speak of her."

She moved her hand from her lap and laid it gently over his. He studied the lines crisscrossing her hand and wondered at them; he did not ask. "I will listen to whatever you want to discuss, Thranduil."

He smiled at her. "That does not mean you will share."

"I…will when I can… _if_ I can," she admitted.

"Shall we…no, perhaps it is too soon."

"What is it?" she asked. "Go ahead and speak your mind."

"Shall we make a vow?" he asked, a little smile on his face. "When we cannot sleep, we shall meet there," he said, nodding toward the garden, "and we shall sit and talk if we can. If we cannot, we will sit. What do you think?"

She was astounded by his words; gripped by the entire conversation. This total stranger cared, was moved enough by her pain that he was willing to talk to her when she needed it, to listen to her stories if she could tell them. That, more than anything, spoke to her about the character of Thranduil. But no, she was reminded, it did not feel as though he was a total stranger. She _wanted_ to know; she suddenly wanted to know anything he would tell her, to get to know him, to understand him.

Erumar nodded. "Thank you, Thranduil."

He smiled. "Thank _you_ , my dear. Now, on to less strenuous conversation, as we are both tired. I heard you say last night to the Evenstar that morning glories are your favorite flower."

"Yes, that is true."

"I have scoured this garden for the past several days and I never noticed any morning glories until this very morning. I think, if you would be willing, that we should take a slow walk that direction as there is a chance they are still open." He stood, taking the hand that had covered his and waited until she swung her legs over the wall.

"Thank you for finding them," she said as she stood. "I did not think you were listening."

"Can you not listen to a conversation and have one at the same time?"

"Not if I want to pay attention to the one I am having."

"I will neither confirm nor deny the truth of that," he replied, looking a bit guilty. She laughed at him; again, that tinkling of silver bells as he threaded her hand through his arm. "Permit me?"

"Yes," she said, and as she spoke the clouds appeared to roll away and the sun shone down on Minas Tirith. Both of them looked up together, and she knew exactly what they were both thinking. _Ilúvatar heard you after all, Thranduil_.

"Erumar! There you are!" The two of them turned to see Enguina and Arwen walking quickly toward them from the passageway. They immediately halted walking and waited for them to catch up. "We wondered where you were this morning for breakfast and then we were afraid we would not find you after service," Enguina stated, but her eyes were on Erumar's hand on Thranduil's arm. "Good morning to you as well, Thranduil."

He smiled at her, noticing the tiredness around her eyes. "Good morning, Enguina, Evenstar. I notice neither of you were looking for me, though I suppose I can overlook that."

Erumar smiled, patting his arm. "They were looking for me first; you were a close second."

"Of course," said Arwen, smiling, though Erumar could see through the visage to the worry beneath it. "We missed both of you at service. Is everything all right?"

"I was going to ask you both the same thing," Thranduil replied softly.

"It was a long night," Enguina replied softly, and Erumar nodded, her fingers tightening automatically on Thranduil's arm. "But it was good to be at service."

"We were about to take a turn in the garden," Thranduil responded, never answering Arwen's question, "but if I am not mistaken, you have come to steal Erumar away. I will relinquish her if I must."

"By all means, come with us, if it is your desire," Arwen said, inviting him. "We could use a second opinion, or perhaps someone to sing for us." There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes and he crunched his eyebrows at her. She burst out laughing. "Dear Ilúvatar, if you do not look like my father!"

"I do not, as a general rule, use my voice for song," Thranduil grouched.

"That is sadness, indeed!" proclaimed Enguina. "Your son has such a lovely voice."

"It is not from me, I assure you." He shook his head. "Furthermore, I would not wish to be in your way; did you not tell Legolas he could not attend?"

"Can you keep a secret until tomorrow at the celebration?" she asked pointedly.

"Will you be keeping yours until the wedding?" he challenged, and she nodded. "Then _I_ can. Very well, I see no reason not to attend. I will accompany you."

"Wonderful," added Arwen. "Come along both of you then, and we will see what can be done this last day before the wedding."

But even as they walked, Enguina could not help but spy that Thranduil walked closely with Erumar, even though she no longer held his arm.

* * *

Legolas sat, carefully flicking the knife blade over the piece of wood. This was the first time in many days he was sitting in the room that had been his for nearly seven years, his home and Gimli's. The dwarf was in the other room at the moment, letting him get on with his work. The idea he had for Enguina's wedding gift had been perfect; all he had left to do at the moment was to finish it.

He was not a great carver. He should have asked his father for help, or Aragorn, or Faramir, but he wanted to give Enguina something that was made entirely by his own hands. He wanted to give her something that he had made for her out of his great love, his desire for her to become his wife, a token of the joy he had found in her. He yanked his hand back after slicing the edge of his finger on the blade. Hissing, he shoved his finger in his mouth for a moment, disgust on his face from the taste of his own blood. Yes, he had never felt so clumsy before—or wanted anything to be so perfect. He loved her. He looked forward to their life together. He could show her with a gift like this.

Gimli came to stand in the doorway, watching him slowly begin to flick the knife again. "That's hard work, lad, but it looks like it's coming along just fine."

Legolas set the knife down for a moment, rolled his shoulders, and reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck. "If my head was not throbbing," he began with a laugh, "I might be able to finish this more easily. That is not meant to be, I suppose."

"What'd you do to it?"

"I fell last night," he replied, sighing. "Enguina threw me from the divan to the floor and I nearly broke my neck on the table."

Gimli chortled. "Hehehehe! Gettin' a bit frisky for your own good, eh elf?"

"Gimli," Legolas said with forced patience, "she had a nightmare."

The snicker left his lips and the dwarf crossed his arms. "I thought she was fine when you were there with her! Isn't that the reason you've been staying there all this time? Didn't these dreams stop?"

"No," Legolas said sadly, "they have lessened recently, but they are not gone."

" _Damn_ that fiend, Bragolaur!" Gimli shouted, making Legolas jump. He spat on the floor, disgusted. "And _damn_ the horse that brought him! Why, if he was alive right now, if Arwen hadn't butchered him, I'd butcher him myself!"

"So would I," the elf agreed in a low voice. "But instead his memory remains. We continue to fight it, and some nights are easier than others. Last night was a difficult night for her."

"It's so close to the wedding," the dwarf groaned. "Couldn't she just… _forget_? Not even for a little while?"

"She clears her mind before sleep now; she did not do that before. Sometimes, it is not enough. Aragorn says it will get easier," he added. Legolas flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders a few times, and then took up the knife again. "I need to finish this for her before tonight. Do you think I will?"

Gimli grinned. "I guess it depends on how quickly you work. Just stop getting your blood all over it, eh? That won't make for a very nice gift."

"Yes," he laughed, "you are quite right, friend." He looked up at Gimli again, his hands stilling on the wood. "Tomorrow I will be wed," he said softly. "Bound to Enguina for the rest of my days, to be with her, and her alone."

Gimli smiled sadly, nodding. "You don't have to say anymore, elf. I know." He smiled at him more joyously. "And you're the better for it. I've never been happier for anyone than I am for you, lad. I'll let you get back to your work." He turned to leave the room.

"Gimli." Legolas's voice called him back and the dwarf turned in the hall to meet the elf's eyes. The blonde's eyes were pleading. "Promise me…promise me that you and I…that we will always be friends. That we will always be close, like brothers."

Gimli laughed and smiled. "Of _course_ we will! You're not getting rid of me _that_ easily!" He took a step back towards him and leaned against the doorframe again. "No matter if you're in Ithilien and I'm in Rohan, we'll still see one another," he said a bit more seriously. "I'll even be Uncle to your children if you'd like!" Legolas stood, setting the carving down upon the bed and walked to the dwarf. He extended his hand, and the dwarf clasped his arm. "I promise," Gimli said, in his affectionately gruff way, "we will always be brothers."

Legolas nodded, unable to speak. The dwarf seemed to notice as he looked into his intense face that the elf was not going to be able to respond. He released his arms and embraced the elf around the waist, once, tightly, then released him.

"I love ya, laddie. I never thought, in all my life, I'd ever have an elf as my friend. But you and I…well, we're different. Always have been." He smiled and turned away. "Now, git goin' on that before you never finish it in time, and stop cutting yourself!"

Gimli disappeared down the hallway, leaving Legolas standing in the doorway, hands at his side. He could not speak around the lump in his throat, not to second Gimli's words, not to make the promise to remain brothers or to repeat the words to the dwarf that he had said. He did turn back then, as he needed to finish his carving, but not before he had repeated the words in his heart.

 _I love you, my friend, Gimli, son of Gloin. Ilúvatar bless us that we will always be brothers._


	49. Chapter 49

Dinner that evening was a smaller affair; Éowyn had not been feeling well most of the day, so Faramir, Annî, and Éomer were dining at their home tonight, leaving the others to gather in the King's House. It was to be an earlier dinner, as everyone needed a good night's sleep before the wedding, and they wanted to leave Legolas enough time to take Enguina on their moonlit ride. Enguina, Arwen, Erumar, and Thranduil had arrived at the House early to cook, spending much of the day laughing together about nothing or telling random stories of the past. Legolas and Gimli had come shortly thereafter, and _finally_ , nearly an hour after everyone else, Aragorn arrived.

"Well, a miracle you could make it for dinner in your own home," said Thranduil as he walked in the door, and Aragorn shook his head.

"Some days, it is," he admitted, reaching out to clasp the elf's arm in greeting. "How was the day?"

"Stunning," he said, and Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "I am perfectly serious, as you will discover tomorrow."

Enguina slapped his arm. " _Thranduil_!" she hissed. "Secrets are not supposed to be spoken of!"

" _What_ secrets?" asked Legolas. "Wait…wait, wait, wait, my _father_ —no, no, that is _not_ right! I cry foul on you!" He poked his finger against Enguina's nose.

"On _me_? It was hardly my fault!"

Erumar laughed. "Honestly, Legolas, it is not that huge of an issue."

"What have _you_ done?" Aragorn asked Thranduil, shaking his head.

"Arwen is to blame," he interjected, pointing at her. " _She_ invited me to come along."

Arwen rolled her eyes, setting the plate down she had made for Aragorn at the end of the table. "Come and eat, Aragorn. Let these friends have their go at one another and do not get involved."

"Involved?" asked Thranduil. "He began it."

"He asked an innocent question," laughed Erumar. "I hardly think he can be to blame. If anyone is to blame, it is _you_ , Thranduil, for your answer!"

"Of course, you would take Legolas's side," Thranduil grumbled, and she set her hand on his arm consolingly.

"I am not taking Legolas's side. In fact, I think it is a perfectly good secret. The more surprises, the better."

"Well _that_ is unkind!" cried Legolas.

"Legolas," she chided him, "how many more real surprises are there in life? Take them as they come, and be glad Enguina wanted to please you with something that she spent time planning. Do you not wish to surprise her in some things?"

Enguina and Legolas stared at her, and then Legolas glanced at his betrothed and smiled. "Her life _would_ be quite boring without my surprises."

"Some of them I could live without," she said dryly, but he slipped a hand beneath her chin and turned her head towards him, kissing her quickly on the lips. Surprise lit her face as her skin flushed with embarrassment. " _Legolas!_ "

"I _am_ sorry, love," he laughed softly as everyone else at the table laughed or smiled and the exchange, "but it was much too tempting." He gave her a wicked grin.

Gimli thumped his hand on the table. "You know, I thought we were _roasting_ these two lovebirds tonight," he laughed as he scooped up a mouthful of potatoes. "We should get started if you think about the time. Legolas and Enguina won't get any _alone_ time if we don't."

Legolas laughed as Enguina's blush increased ten-fold. "It is early yet. Do not be so hasty, as Fangorn would say." He rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head forward, which distracted her for a moment. She could not rub it for him; it would be inappropriate with all of their friends present and at the dinner table.

"Legolas, is there something wrong with your neck?" asked Thranduil as they continued eating.

His son shook his head, but gave a smile. "It is a bit stiff from the day. I spent a long time with my head looking down at something."

"At what?" asked Enguina, but he shook his head again.

"Nothing," he said innocently. "But whatever you all did today went well?"

"Very," added Arwen with a smile. She glanced at Aragorn. "How was your day, Aragorn?"

"Quiet," he replied with relief. "The council is excited about the prospect of the wedding and celebration and they look forward to extending you both all due happiness tomorrow. The food, the church, the intended celebration…everything is ready." He sighed and smiled. "The entire City is looking forward to celebrating with you."

Legolas gave Aragorn a wicked grin. "How long are we to remain with our guests before it is considered rude and improper to leave?"

Enguina groaned softly and covered her face with her hands. "You are terribly embarrassing her, Legolas," chided Erumar and Legolas laughed.

"I know it. She shall have her revenge at some point, make no mistake."

"Arwen and I stayed until very early in the morning," he replied. "But I do not see that you would need to do that. The celebration will begin almost directly after the service, so if you wait until dark that will be long enough."

"Until dark?" laughed Gimli. "That wouldn't even give them enough time to dance!"

"And we _must_ dance," said Enguina seriously. "There is not enough dancing in Minas Tirith as it is. The last time we danced was…well, at the commemoration of the statues."

"Ah, such beautiful dancing!" exclaimed Gimli. "Will you stand up with me again, Enguina?"

"I would not miss it, Gimli," she replied.

* * *

Dinner was soon finished as they continued to talk of their days and what the morning tomorrow would look like, everyone getting ready in their respective places and joining together at the church for the service. When their eating was done, Aragorn, Legolas, and Thranduil retired to the porch as Gimli was finishing his drink. They offered to clean up, but the ladies told them they would take care of it. Enguina slipped off her ring, setting it down by her place; she could not wash the dishes with it on. Arwen and Erumar began to help her with the dishes, carrying them from the table to her. In the meantime, Gimli began moving towards the porch as well with his pipe, but spotted the ring. Being in cahoots with both Enguina _and_ Legolas, he thought that exacting a _tiny_ bit of revenge might be a good plan. As nonchalantly as a dwarf could be, he reached out and picked up the ring, tucking it safely away—and then disappeared to the porch.

Behind him, Enguina dipped her hands into the sink and glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were the only three in the kitchen. When she found they were, she lowered her voice and leaned closely to Erumar as she set down a few dishes beside the sink.

"So…"

Erumar looked up at her. "What?"

"So… _what_ is going _on_?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye. Erumar simply stared at her, obviously confused by the lack of description within her question.

"'Going on'? What are you talking about, Enguina?"

"I am _terribly_ good at weaseling, Erumar," she said with an evil grin, "and I have been waiting all day to get you alone and ask you."

"Enguina, what are you weaseling out of her now?" sighed an exasperated Arwen as she rolled her eyes. "Leave her be."

"Not now!" cried Enguina with a laugh. "I have only just begun! Erumar, you have been spending quite a bit of time in conversation with Thranduil."

"What do you mean?" she asked, even more confused in being mentioned in conjunction with him. "He happened upon me this morning near the wall."

"Happened upon you?" questioned Enguina closely. "Or made it so that he might meet you there? He is very aware of you; have you not noticed?"

"I…have no idea what you are speaking of. Do not make up such fantasies, Enguina," she chided her. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." She turned to gather a few more dishes.

"Well, you _are_ a bit different around him," Arwen said, throwing in with agreement. "You smile and laugh more when he is present. I think he takes your mind from your sadness."

"Yes, you do," added Enguina. "You smiled more today than yesterday, and you were holding Thranduil's arm a lot today—"

"He was _walking_ with me," Erumar said, irritation creeping into her tone.

"Yes, and he could not take his eyes from you _all day_ ," she said with a giggle, washing another dish. "You should have seen him when you were dancing!"

"Stop it, Enguina," Erumar said waspishly, bringing another small stack of plates over from the table. "You are imagining things."

" _Enguina_ ," warned Arwen softly, but Enguina grinned at Erumar, catching her wrist.

"No," she argued, "I do not think I am. In fact, if I am so wrong, why are _you_ blushing?"

Erumar pulled away from her. "That heat is irritation with _you_ ," she explained heatedly, turning her back on her. "Now I _know_ the only reason I did _not_ miss you—your meddling!"

"Come now, we meddled with Haldir and look what happened; he _married_ you," she said with a laugh. "We were sometimes horrible to him though, I will admit. Pure torture."

"And _this_ is not torture?" Erumar lifted a handful of forks from the table and found her hands were shaking. Was it the mention of Haldir? Not really…this was something else. She turned back to Enguina, her objective to get the forks to the sink without them noticing she was trembling.

"No," Enguina said slyly, "this is the beginning of an _investigation_. What is going on between you and Thranduil? There is _something_ between you both. I can see it." Erumar froze.

" _Enguina_ …" Arwen warned again, this time anxiety fueling the caution in her voice.

"Going on? Something between—? What? Enguina, are you out of your _mind_?"

"It is only _natural_ that the two of you would be drawn to each—"

" _Natural?_ " Erumar asked, horrified and she stumbled a step back into the table, her shaking hands dropping the forks. They banged along the floor. " _Drawn_ to—?"

"Erumar, calm down," whispered Arwen, taking a step forward but not bending down to grab the forks just yet. "Enguina was asking an innocent question. She does not mean to imply anything by her words."

"He was _kind_ to me!" Erumar cried, forcing her hands to grip the table behind her, trying to stop their shaking, trying not to let the two of them see her fighting back the tears, her sudden despair. "It was innocent; he meant nothing by it— _nothing!_ "

Enguina looked horrified for a moment, reaching out to her friend, her sister, even with soaking wet hands. "Erumar, I was simply teasing! I am glad that you—I did not mean to—"

"There is _nothing_ between us; it would be _wrong_ ," she snapped. The sudden sadness and terror she had felt she wrapped around herself like a shield, hardening it into anger. A hawk-like expression came over her face; it was the one that Enguina could not stand to see, that she could not fight against. " _Wrong_!"

"Erumar, please," Arwen said to her gently, even as she bent to pick up the forks. "It is _good_ that you and Thranduil are getting along. Both of you could use a friend; you are alone here."

"A friend is…a friend is _different_ from what Enguina was implying!"

Enguina held up her hands. "I _am_ sorry. The last thing in the world I would want is to hurt you, Erumar. You know I loved Haldir with all my heart, but…as much as it hurts, he _is_ gone. You feel that loss more keenly than anyone; you are _lonely_. A good friendship will do you good."

" _Please stop_!" she said, but her words were more of an agonized groan, and she looked away as hot tears spilled down her face. "I will _not_ do this with you both; I will _not_ have this conversation." She forcefully wiped them away, turning her back on them. "We are going to finish cleaning up, and I do not want to hear either of you mention this _again._ _ **Ever**_." Her voice was so serious, her shaking hands piercing her own skin now as she had to release the table.

"Erumar…" whispered Enguina, reaching out to touch her shoulders. Erumar yanked away from them and strode into the sitting room, clearly desiring to be alone. Enguina immediately made to follow her, but Arwen caught her arm.

"Let her go," she said softly. "She needs a moment."

"I did not mean to _hurt_ her!" Enguina cried, getting upset herself. "I was teasing her! Thranduil is only a man and she is a very beautiful woman; how could he _not_ notice her?"

"Perhaps you came on a bit strong," Arwen whispered. "Whatever the case may be, she is not ready for it or this conversation." She looked at Enguina, who looked very guilty. "She is filled with pain, Enguina; you did not see her yesterday morning when she arrived."

"I _know_ what she has been like," she whispered back fiercely. "I was in Lórien when we found out he had _died_ , Arwen. She was destroyed by the news; she cried for _days_. I thought she was going to stop breathing there were times she would cry so hard. Her children feared for her; they never left her alone.

"You cannot tell me you have not noticed her hands. She has no feelingin them," she whispered hoarsely. "One night in Lórien several years ago, I came into the house an hour after I was supposed to have been there and I smelled the awful stench of burned flesh." Arwen's stomach dropped and she paled. "By _Elbereth_ , Arwen, she had her _hands_ in the fire! Ilúvatar only knows how long she had them there, how long she had been that way." Tears sprang to her eyes. "Her skin was black and bleeding…and no matter what they tried, the Healers could not return the feeling to her fingertips, her hands, heal the skin well-enough.

"When I asked her what the hell she had been thinking, she said she needed to feel _something_ other than the terrible grief, even if it was physical pain. She has… _scars_ …between her fingers when I found her cutting herself not a year ago. She was _ready_ to lay herself down years ago. She _tried_ …but she did not die. She lives still." She looked into Arwen's worried face. "Arwen, _that_ is why I left Lórien. She tried to _kill_ herself; we fought; I left. In my own condition…I could not bear to see her that way any longer. I had faced it long enough. Some scars go too deep," she muttered.

Arwen reached out and touched her face. "No one is beyond healing, Enguina," she whispered. "You should know that."

"I do now," she replied. "There is a _reason_ that she is still alive. There must be; there was for me. Even in the valley, when things are darkest, yes? Ilúvatar is carrying us, waiting for the right time. Is…is Thranduil not here, feeling the same way?"

Arwen stared at her. "I do not think we should ask that question just yet. Beside that, even if it _were_ true, even if Erumar felt something for him, think about how _else_ she is feeling! Loving Haldir, yet acknowledging another man's possible interest in her? Think of how…how torn up inside she would be."

"But…you must admit," she whispered, "they would make a fine pair."

"Oh, _Enguina…_ "

"No," Enguina said firmly, "as much as I love my brother, if Erumar has to remain here in Middle-Earth, if she cannot leave, cannot find peace, then at least she should find something else to make her happy. I have seen her in such pain that I…I would never see her that way again! If the person who can reach her is Thranduil, then there can be _two_ who are healed. Thranduil is as unhappy and lonely as she is. Could they not make each _other_ happy?"

"Erumar is not in that place, Enguina," Arwen said gently. "She…is still loving Haldir in her heart. She needs more time to heal."

Enguina thought about her words. "Let them grow closer, and learn about each other," she said softly, and Arwen nodded. Then, so did she. "You are right, of course, and I should have realized it." She glanced at the other room. "And I may have ruined everything that had already begun thanks to my reckless teasing," she muttered bitterly.

"Everything will be all right," Arwen told her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Both of them lifted their heads when they heard Erumar return to the doorway, arms crossed protectively across her chest. She looked at the two of them, hurt and grief in her face.

"Erumar," Enguina whispered, "I am so _sorry_." Going directly to her, she opened her arms to hug her and Erumar caved into them, struggling as she was to breathe calmly and not sob openly into Enguina. Arwen stood by, but did not get any closer to them.

"I did not mean to be so angry," Erumar muttered, her voice thick with tears.

"I should not have teased you. It was wrong of me," she added. "I was so happy that you were feeling better that I made fun of you instead of sharing your good mood. I _am_ sorry; it was wrong. And to tease you about Thranduil was not appropriate. Are you all right?"

Erumar nodded and lifted her head from Enguina's shoulder, pulling back. "Fine," she whispered back, wiping her face again. She glanced at Arwen and then lowered her eyes.

"Do not be embarrassed," Arwen said, moving forward to touch her arm. "Erumar, we both know very well how much you loved Haldir. No one is asking you to do anything; you need _not_ do anything. Just… _be_ …and continue living."

" _I am trying_ ," she whispered, wiping her eyes fiercely again.

"Stop doing that," Arwen said gently and caught her hands in her own. "You are going to scratch your face." She felt the scars on her hands and wanted to cry for her. The thought of her dear friend doing something like that…it made her sick to her stomach. But she knew it had been bound to happen. Even though Haldir was not the most passionate elf, he had loved her in his way and he and their children _had_ been her life. She had been a good wife to him, and it hurt to see her so broken, so alone.

The front door opened and the three of them lifted their heads to see Legolas stride into the doorway, stopping as he felt the gravity in the room. "Forgive me," he said, realizing that he had butted in rather rudely when clearly this had been quite serious, "I was wondering where Enguina was and if I could borrow her for the rest of the evening. Is…everything all right?"

"Fine, Legolas," Enguina replied.

"Go," Arwen said to Enguina, waving her towards the door, "Erumar and I will finish up here." Enguina looked over to Erumar, guilt still on her face.

"Stop it," she muttered. "Do not keep him waiting."

Enguina took and squeezed Erumar's hands and turned back to the table to pick up her ring from her place and stopped dead as she looked down at the empty place. A wave of panic so hard and awful swept over her and she nearly swayed on her feet, would have if she had not had a hand on the back of the chair. She glanced around the table, stopping her eyes from bulging out as they scanned frantically for the ring. _It was not there. It was not there!_ How was that possible? She knew she had placed it right there so she would have it nowhere near the sink. Where was it? _Where?!_

"Enguina?" Arwen said softly, and she nearly jumped, her mind was working so furiously.

"Um…Legolas," she said, turning suddenly, forcing the panic from her eyes, "I just remembered I have to tell Arwen and Erumar something before our ride. Would you mind waiting outside?"

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 'Does this have to do with—"

"Yes!" she interrupted him. "Yes, please?"

"Fine." He turned and began to close the door behind him, but not before he leaned back in. "You are going to owe me, you know." He tugged the door closed behind him and Enguina covered her mouth with her hands, tears springing to her eyes. Erumar immediately shoved aside everything that had happened before, even her own pain, and focused on Enguina. Arwen stepped toward her, taking her arms in her hands.

"Good heavens, Enguina," said Erumar suddenly. "What is the matter?"

Unable to speak with the grief in her heart, she raised her left hand to show them. Arwen gasped. "Where is it?" she cried, and Enguina's breath was trapped in her throat as she tried not to panic—it was already too late for that.

"I left it on the table," she moaned. "I left it right here near the tea mug."

"Could I have picked it up?" gasped Erumar, darting to the sink while Arwen went almost immediately to the floor, searching on her hands and knees.

The three of them searched for nearly five minutes, the floor, the empty table, the sink, the counter— _everywhere_ they could think. By the end, Enguina was so miserable, she looked as though she would burst into tears.

"Perhaps you did not set it down," suggested Erumar, feeling simply awful, her eyes still scanning about the room.

"I saw it on the table," Arwen said, shaking her head. "Before we began the dishes. I, too, know it was there."

Enguina collapsed into the chair at the table and set her head on her hands. "No, no…it cannot be gone…it cannot be gone…" she whispered, her voice full of despair. Erumar rested her hands on her shoulders.

"We will keep looking; Arwen and I will stay here, all night if we must, and—"

"How can I go out there?" she moaned. "How can I face him, knowing his ring of pledge is missing from my hand? The wedding is _tomorrow_! Oh, I _must_ find it!" Tears spilled down her face as she twisted her fingers around the empty space upon her hand.

"Hush," Arwen said tenderly, reaching over to her as well, "we will find it."

The door creaked open and Aragorn slipped into the House, closing the door behind him. "There is an awfully impatient elf on my doorstep…" he began, and then took in the scene before him. "Enguina, what has happened?"

"The ring is missing," Arwen replied and Enguina stifled a sob and swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure but failing miserably. "Her betrothal ring was here on the table and now it is missing."

"How can that be?" he asked, looking troubled. "Have you looked—"

"Nearly everywhere," Erumar said, her fingers tightening with compassion on Enguina's shoulders. "But we intend to keep looking. Enguina cannot keep Legolas waiting much longer."

"You two have been teasing each other, is it possible Legolas has it?" Aragorn suggested.

"He would not _dare_ ," said Arwen, shaking her head.

"He knows what it means to me," cried Enguina. "He had it _made_ …he _gave_ it to me…"

"Shh…all right…" he said, raising a hand. "We will find it. You need to collect yourself, Enguina. Arwen, take her to the bath and let her splash some cold water on her face." She nodded and gathered Enguina to the bath. In the meantime, Aragorn looked up at Erumar. "It cannot simply go missing. Night after night Enguina has dined here and taken that ring off."

"You really believe he would take it?"

He sighed. "No. I will, however, search this House from top to bottom until it is found."

"I will help."

Enguina and Arwen returned to the room, and as long as Enguina's face was in shadow, it did not appear she had been crying. Legolas might not notice in the dim lamplights of Minas Tirith. Aragorn reached out and set his hands on Enguina's shoulders.

"Do not worry, aiwë," he said gently. "We will find it."

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, and then cleared her throat. "I should…I should go. Legolas _is_ not very patient."

"We will see you in the morning," Arwen replied, touching her arm. Aragorn followed her to the door, opening it for her and letting her out onto the porch.

" _There_ you are," Legolas sighed, smiling at her. "I was afraid you did not wish to come with me anymore." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She avoided his eyes, but thankfully, he did not notice as he took her hand. "We will see you all for breakfast?"

Aragorn nodded. "Have a good ride…and try to get some sleep, both of you. It is going to be a long day tomorrow."

"We will." The two of them walked away, Legolas holding Enguina's hand.

Thranduil rose. "Well, I suppose we should all be saying our goodnights then?"

"Indeed!" said Gimli. "I told my cousin I'd meet him at the _Barrel_ for—"

"I thought you were not allowed to enter that establishment?" asked Thranduil, raising a brow.

"Eh! All dwarves look the same to some men. Perhaps we'll get inside! Want to join us?"

Thranduil laughed. "No, Master Dwarf, I would not. I have had my fair share of ale in my time."

"Neither of you are going anywhere," Aragorn interrupted them. "You are both coming inside until Enguina's betrothal ring is found."

"What?" asked Thranduil, getting to his feet. "It is missing?"

"Arwen and Erumar are searching for it now. Enguina is so distraught she was in tears. She only just collected herself. We _must_ find it."

Gimli said not a word as the three of them entered the House and Aragorn and Thranduil also began searching. Seeing the group of them, on their hands and knees, scouring the sitting room and even the _bedroom_ , Gimli began to feel an _extreme_ amount of guilt. Pulling the ring out of his pocket, he held it in his fist, debating what he should do.

" _Gimli_ ," began a rather irritated Thranduil, watching him stand there as he searched the counter for the fourth time, "what are you doing standing there so stupidly? Get searching, dwarf! The ring must be found!"

"I—"

"He has _found_ it!" cried Erumar, seeing the glitter in his palm. " _Bless_ you, Gimli!" She leapt forward and kissed him on the brow. Gimli was stunned, but closed his hand so he would not drop the ring. "Arwen! Aragorn!" Thranduil stood, clasping his hands behind his back and watching the dwarf closely.

The couple returned to the room, Arwen first with Aragorn close behind. "Wherever did you find it?" asked Arwen, glancing around at the floor. "How could we have missed it?"

"I…well, er…well…" Gimli stuttered out, trying to figure out an appropriate response or at least an _acceptable_ one—even a good lie would have done well, too.

"He did _not_ ," said Thranduil rather heatedly, and Gimli's face went red. "He did not _find_ it."

"He did not...?" asked Arwen and Erumar covered her mouth. Aragorn stared.

"No, he _had_ it."

Arwen's mouth dropped open. " _Gimli!_ "

"Now wait a moment!" he cried. "There was a good reason! It was legitimate!"

"There could be _no_ good reason for this!" growled Aragorn, and a fire was kindled in his eyes such that Gimli could not even meet them. The dwarf seemed to shrink as Aragorn seemed to grow taller.

"Why would you _do_ that?" Erumar asked, horrified. "She was so grieved!"

"Well they've been playing tricks on each other, you see," Gimli grumbled, looking at the floor and shuffling his feet, feeling as though he was a wee lad again. "I thought I could get them back for being mean to one another. I knew about the Mirkwood tradition and Enguina's little scheme and I thought—"

"That was not a wise choice," Thranduil said. "A betrothal ring is not something to fool with."

Aragorn stepped forward, glaring at the dwarf with ferocity, his hands clenching to fists. "You will return that ring to her _this very moment_."

"Oh, Gimli…" murmured Erumar, covering her face with one hand.

"I _am_ s—"

"Do not apologize to _us_!" Aragorn snapped in a fairly menacing voice and Arwen laid a calming hand on his arm. Seldom had she seen him so infuriated. " _Go_ , _now_ , and return it to her."

Gimli turned around and opened the door, looking abashed. As he stepped out, Thranduil said behind him, "And make sure you tell her the truth when you do." He let the door close behind the dwarf, and he turned back to them. Arwen and Erumar still stood there fairly stunned, but Aragorn's nostrils were nearly flaring with his irritation at the dwarf. Thranduil crossed his arms, still blocking the doorway, and he met the man's eyes. "You need to breathe," he said simply.

"I need to finish the dishes," Aragorn said, his voice low. He stepped around Arwen's arm and went directly to the sink where he plunged his hands in the water.

"Arwen," Erumar said wryly, "I think the dishes are in danger." Thranduil smiled.

Aragorn snorted, but said nothing. Arwen shook her head. "I…cannot believe he _did_ that. Even if he were trying to get back at them both, that was _so_ foolish."

"That is a serious offense," Thranduil said, "though I am certain she will forgive him." He got a bit of a wicked smile on his face. "Though, it would serve the dwarf right if Legolas challenged him to a duel. If he were angry enough—"

"By the Valar, Thranduil, do not say such a thing!" gasped Erumar, still horrified.

Thranduil chuckled. "I only tease, my dear."

* * *

Legolas cinched Brethil's saddle and patted his shoulder. Lómë was already tacked up and tied in the aisle, but Enguina was not with him. Instead, she was leaning against the stall door between Asfaloth and Brego, both of whom had their heads over her shoulders, Brego looking for treats, Asfaloth nuzzling her cheek. He smiled to himself as he looked at her, but still, she remained very, very quiet. She had been since she had come outside from the King's House. His smile straightened as he stepped over to her; her head was down, and she did not notice him.

He lifted her chin with his fingers. "Are you tired, my Guin?" he asked. "We do not need to go riding if you do not wish it."

"No, I _do_ , Legolas," she replied, and he as she looked at him, he noticed her eyes were flooded with tears.

" _Guin_ ," he said, his voice full of concern for her, "are you all right?"

"I cannot go on," she whispered. "I cannot go on without you knowing! I am so distraught!" She fled into his arms and he wrapped his around her tightly.

"What is it? What is it that hurts you, my love?" he asked, rubbing her back gently as she began to cry into his chest.

"The ring…my betrothal ring is _gone_ …"

"Gone? What?" He suddenly noticed its absence on the hand that gripped his tunic.

"I set it on the table after dinner and it is not there! We searched everywhere for it, all over the King's House, _everywhere_ and we could not _find_ it. Erumar and Arwen and Aragorn said they would keep searching but—"

"Shh, shh," he whispered, "it is all right."

"No it is not!" she wept. "You pledged yourself to me with that ring; I pledged myself to _you!_ It made it formal, final, beautiful. It made it a visible promise that we would be true to each other, holding ourselves pure until we were wed. It was _more_ than a ring, and I have lost it!"

"It is not your fault," he told her, stroking her hair. "They will find it."

"What if they do not? And with the wedding tomorrow—"

"We have our rings to wed one another," he said. "At worst, I will have a new one made for you. Please, Enguina…it is only a _thing_. Our promises are still there." He smiled, lifting her chin. "Do you know what Aragorn gave Arwen to bind themselves in troth?"

"No," she replied miserably, sniffing, trying to wipe her eyes, to collect herself.

"Nothing," he said. "They had a simple ceremony between the two of them to say the words, just as we did, and he said he tied a ribbon about their wrists…and then they cut their hands with a dagger and—"

" _What_?" Enguina asked, so stunned she stopped crying and her mouth fell open.

He laughed. "I am teasing you. Honestly, there was no blood oath, but at least I made you forget for a moment, distracted you." She hit him with an open palm to the chest. "Please, Enguina…it is only a thing. Our words are enough for each other."

Behind them, they heard thudding footsteps and both of them turned to see Gimli puffing down the aisle, his arm in the air. Before he could even speak, Enguina flung herself from Legolas arms and into Gimli, hugging the dwarf around the neck. She nearly toppled him over and he fell sideways into Lómë's flanks who snorted, but stood still so they did not fall to the ground. Legolas grabbed the dwarf's shoulder and pulled them both upright and slipped the ring from the dwarf's grasp.

"Thank you, _thank you_ , _Gimli_!" Enguina cried, kissing him on both cheeks. Legolas grinned at him. "Wherever did you _find_ it?"

"Well, that's a bit of a funny story actually," he began, very embarrassed.

"What does it matter?" asked Legolas, taking Enguina by the hand and sliding the ring back into place on her finger. "It has been returned to where it belongs," he whispered and kissed her ring, her hand, and then tipped her chin up to kiss her as well.

Gimli stood uncomfortably for a moment, and then he coughed, "Well, I'll…just be on my way then." He sheepishly turned about and without waiting for any further discussion on the matter scooted out, thankful he had not been questioned more closely, thankful he had avoided Aragorn's wrath, and looking more and more forward to that ale by the moment.


	50. Chapter 50

Author's Note: Thanks to my new followers! Hope you are enjoying the story! :O)

* * *

It had not been in Erumar's plan to be in the garden already; it had not been Thranduil's either. The two of them had randomly met near the Fountain and began walking with one another, once more unable to sleep. They had said nothing when they met each other, simply began walking. So far, they had spoken of many things, it seemed everything but the real reason they were out here. Though, it appeared that Thranduil was closer to the subject than her. She tried more neutral ground.

"You have a big day tomorrow," she said softly.

"Me?" he said indignantly. "It is nothing. I stand there and watch my son."

"You are walking Enguina to the church, yes?"

"Oh, that." He shook his head. "No one will be looking at me. If she is half as beautiful as she is in the everyday, all eyes will be on her. If she has asked you and Arwen to escort her as well, it is assured _no_ eyes will be on me."

He saw a light blush tint her cheeks and it made him smile. "I…do not think I am ready to be on display. I…have practically been in hiding the past seven years."

"But you will do it," he said softly. "Because you love her."

"Because I love her," she agreed.

"By the by, the morning glories, though they are not out at the moment, are here around this bend," he said, pointing ahead. "There is a very significant sapling planted there as well, and a figure of stone."

"Oh?" she asked. "I am certain it will be as beautiful as the rest of this lovely garden. I did not expect to find such beauty here in this great city of Kings." They were walking side-by-side, but she was not holding onto him tonight, rubbing the ends of her fingers with her thumbs. He glanced down, distracted by the movement of her hands and there was silence between them for a moment before he spoke. She did not understand what he was speaking of at first, but she quickly caught up with him.

"Her name was Glosvana." He stopped before they moved around the hedgerow. "She was fair-haired, though a deeper gold then Legolas's or mine, and her eyes were full of expression and patience." He looked up into her face and smiled sadly. "I went to lay down tonight and found my head full of her—there was no sense in remaining there any longer."

He heard her sigh softly and watched as she nodded; he knew she was probably not going to share anything. "Glosvana," she repeated. "What a beautiful name." Thranduil nodded.

"That was the first thing I told her when we first met," he said a slow smile coming across his face. "She laughed at me; I tried to impress her. It went on for years in fact. She did not wish to give in…for more than one reason."

Erumar actually laughed. "She was proud! How could a young prince not be good enough for her? Or were you a King then?"

"No, you are correct," he said, "I was a prince. Oropher, my father, thought her beneath me. He did not approve of the match at all." He sighed. "I was as proud as he was, but not when it came to her. Whenever I was near her, impressing her was all that mattered, speaking to her. Needless to say, my father sent me on many journeys so I would be away from her."

Erumar smiled. "I was going to say that I do not think it would be possible, with so much wooing, that she would not fall for you in a few months, never mind a few years."

"Well, I was not there very often! My father did everything in his power to keep us apart, and mind you, that was quite a bit of power. One of the many reasons Glosvana acted as though she did not want me was because _he_ did not want her. She did not want me at odds with my father. In the end, it mattered very little what he thought. We were wed during the Second Age as Sauron was coming to power…in secret."

She stared at him. " _You_ … _eloped_?"

He laughed suddenly. "That does not seem like something someone like me would do, does it?"

"Not at all," she said, completely taken by surprise.

"My father was so angry, we were at odds for a few years."

"A few?"

He shifted his head back and forth as if deciding. "Hundred."

"Oh, Thranduil," she laughed. "You seem in a good mood for the telling tonight. Tell me more if you like." He tilted his head at her. "If it brings you peace, please."

He shook his head. "It should not bring me peace," he said. "Speaking of her has ever brought me pain. I do not know why reminiscing with you feels…different."

"Strike when the iron is hot, as they say," she said with a smile, and he smiled in return, clasping his hands behind his back.

"And what of you? What brings you out to the garden tonight?"

"Too much on my mind," she answered honestly but would say no more about herself. She met his eyes with a little smile then. "And you said there were morning glories."

"You cannot see them this late at night," he reminded her. "Or at least their beauty."

"I was intending to wait for them to open," she said, and he nodded. _Another sleepless night._

"You did not eat much at dinner this evening," he observed.

"Sometimes I forget," she replied, her voice softer, more reflective.

"I thought perhaps you were fasting until tomorrow's feast," he teased her gently.

"Oh…no," she said suddenly, "but I wish I had thought of that. It would have made a much better excuse." He reached out for her hand.

"Permit me?" She accepted it and he threaded it through his arm again; he led her around the hedgerow. "Whatever happened to your hands, Erumar?" he asked her gently. "You have been through pain."

She shook her head. "No, Thranduil, that question is…out of bounds."

"Forgive me."

"Apology accepted." She watched their feet make a slow path in the thickening spring grass, not wanting to look into his face. "You told a story of _your_ father, Thranduil. Did you accept Enguina so readily? Or did you wonder if she would be good enough for Legolas?"

He felt a bit spun-'round by her question, so it took him a moment to process it. She was, once again, drawing the conversation away from herself. "I will be honest that I planned on accepting her straightaway, unless she were a harlot or a trickster and had seduced my son in the worst way. Though I will also admit I did not plan on liking her so much," he said. "Legolas has long been without a partner."

"Enguina is most certainly neither of those."

He laughed. "No, certainly not! She is too sweet, much too sweet." He looked up and noticed two soldiers of Gondor at their posts near the end of the far row of roses, facing the street. They would not be bothered by each other. Nearby where they were walking stood the little mallorn sapling and the statue of Enguina's brother.

"Perhaps," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "you would also enjoy this? This small sapling is a mallorn Aragorn was given to grow here in Minas Tirith; Legolas told me that Enguina planted it here after a ceremony not a few months ago. The likeness of the statue to the figure it was carved in honor of is incredible. Aragorn drew it for him and the stonecutter chiseled it out perfectly." She lifted her head to look at Thranduil and saw him pointing, even as he looked down at her. "Just there, in honor of Lórien and the sacrifice of the Elves during the War." Her eyes followed his extended hand and her heart stilled within her chest.

"You may have known him. He was Enguina's brother—Haldir, of Lórien."

She froze, stock-still where they had been walking, her hand falling from Thranduil's arm. Even from this distance, every detail of the statue was known to her in the moonlight. He was the perfect height, his armor and cloak, his sword and bow, every aspect and form the exact picture of when she had seen him last, standing near the gate of Lórien, the Elven guard lined up behind him. Time stopped, and her eyes searched that noble and handsome face that she had known better than her own for over a thousand years. If she could have moved her head to the left or right, it would almost be as though he was standing there directly before her. As it was, he was too still, a reminder of the way he would stand on the edge of a flet and look out into the woods beyond, hearing, seeing, studying things in ways she could never have understood. He was so perfect in every way that in that moment that she looked at him, she thought it _was_ him—alive and in flesh before her.

"Erumar?"

It was his word, the way he spoke her name out of concern that drew her from a state of stillness and memory into a state of desolation, despair, _torment._ Agony—strong, swift, violent—tore through her heart and shattered every bit of the brittle wall she had enclosed herself within to make it to Minas Tirith at all. She could not feel her head, could not draw breath. The pain was suddenly excruciating—he was _dead_! He was never coming back! He would never hold her again, protect their family, their children. He would never stand and stare into the woods, watching for danger, standing nobly, protector of the Golden Wood…never, _never,_ ever again.

Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground beneath her feet before Thranduil could react to catch her. Falling forward onto her face, fingers digging up the grass in great clumps, she lost all thought of anything except the pain and her grief. She did not know what she was doing. She did not hear her own voice screaming, sobbing. She felt so _empty_ …the _nothingness_ of despair. She felt nothing.

Thranduil, in a state of utter disbelief and horror, knelt beside Erumar and tried to take her shoulders in his hands. Calling her name had no effect, trying to draw her from the ground had no effect, nothing he was doing could reach her. Her body was wracked with sobs, rocking back and forth against the ground of no accord, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the dirt. He laid a hand on her back, touched her hair, anything to rouse her.

" _Ilúvatar_ ," he groaned, " _tell me what to do!_ "

He heard footsteps and metal, and he looked up to find one of the guards who had been standing near the garden's entrance. "My Lord Thranduil, what has happened?" Hildanir asked, staring at the stricken figure he had shown to the King's House only yesterday.

Thranduil looked up and saw the man and immediately, thoughts of Aragorn, of Arwen came to his mind. "She is ill," he said. "Send for the King, and _quickly_ , my boy!"

Hildanir turned and hurried away, telling the guard who was with him to stand by as he made for the King's House. In the meantime, Thranduil laid his hand against her back again, and lowered his head to his own fist, pressing it to his brow.

"Erumar, _Erumar_ …dear god, what has happened? What have I done?" he murmured. He did not know _what_ to do—nothing he was doing was making her respond; it was as if she were deaf and blind. _Ilúvatar, please…she is in such pain! Is there nothing I can do? Can I be of no help to her? What have I done? What brought this on? How can I help her? What are you doing? Stop this and help her! Help her! Whatever this is,_ _ **stop it!**_

"Thranduil!" He heard the shout of his name from the end of the hedgerow and he lifted his head to see Aragorn and Arwen running towards him. "What—?" Aragorn began the sentence, but then did not even waste the time mincing the words. Taking the scene in, seeing where Erumar was standing, what she was facing; he knew exactly what had happened.

"I do not know!" Thranduil cried. "We were walking and then she suddenly fell to her knees." He nearly had to shout in order to be heard over her sobs.

"Oh, Ilúvatar, _Erumar_ ," Arwen whispered and dropped to her knees beside her, laying her hands on her back beside Thranduil's.

"She is not responding," Thranduil said worriedly. "I have tried everything. I do not know what the matter is. I did not know what to do." Aragorn stood blocking the statue from view.

" _Haldir_ ," Aragorn whispered. "We did not walk to the end of the garden, here, last night specifically because of the statue. Haldir was her husband."

" _What_?" Thranduil asked, horrified by what he had unknowingly done. "Why did you not _tell_ me, Elessar? Why did no one say anything?!"

"We did not even think to mention it," said Aragorn, crouching down as well beside her.

"She has gone cold," Arwen said worriedly, looking over at Aragorn. "We need to get her out of the dirt, before a fire, warm her."

"That will not help _this_ —" Thranduil began, pressing his hand to his forehead again, flooded with her grief, and knowing exactly what it was like.

"Nothing will help it, stop it," Arwen whispered, as Aragorn tried to lift her. "It will run its course until she exhausts herself."

"Thranduil, help me," Aragorn said, and the elf reached over to her hands, tugging them from the dirt. He then helped press her into the man's arms, but she was barely pliable—her body was so stiff Thranduil and Arwen had to bend her on their own to make it easier for Aragorn to lift her. He closely followed them out of the garden.

* * *

"I cannot _believe_ you did not tell me," Thranduil said angrily from the doorway of the sitting room of the King's House. He did not look at Aragorn who stood nearby. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the figures of Erumar and Arwen at the fire. The room was _hot_. It was a warm spring night and the fire made it even more uncomfortable, yet Erumar's skin was cold, almost lifeless under Arwen's hands. Her arms were around her friend, holding her closely. Aragorn had wrapped her in a blanket and made her as warm as possible but it was not doing anything to help. This could not be hurried, could not be rushed; there was no comfort that would be found.

"Shhh," Arwen whispered, pressing her cheek to Erumar's head, rocking her gently. Her sobs had died down to whimpers, but the tears flowed unceasingly. Arwen did her best to help warm her with the gift she had; Aragorn had tried as well, but Erumar was deaf and blind to the world—she had no idea that someone held her, that someone spoke to her…she was in the darkness of despair. She barely existed aside from the anguish.

"Thranduil—" Aragorn began tiredly.

"No, I will not have it, Elessar," he stated. "I _know_ what she is _feeling_! If I had seen a statue of Glosvana there I would be no better! You _knew_ she had been walking there. This is your—"

"This is no one's fault," the man said calmly. "She is grieving, Thranduil, just as you are. This is the only way she, as an elf, can deal with the pain. Your hurts run so deep; I _know_."

Thranduil tried to control himself. "I am…if I had only _known_. I could have done something." His heart was grieved. He felt he had brought this on her, had made it happen.

"This was coming," Aragorn said softly. "She could not outrun it. Legolas said she was sad tonight—"

"She was sad last night when we parted," Thranduil said. "I met her at the wall this morning and she was still in pain." He touched the center of his chest and closed his eyes. "The sorrow in her voice tore out my heart."

"It will happen again and again before it gets any better," Aragorn continued. "You know this, Thranduil. Haldir has been dead seven years and her pain is no less than it was then. Is yours? Of course not. There is no way to stop it."

"Seeing him like that…" he said, looking over at the top of her head. "It nearly killed her. She was not breathing when she fell; it was the most awful experience. I thought…I—"

Why did it matter? She was in agony; she was seeking death. That was what _he_ had wanted for so long, was it not? Why had he found himself talking about Glosvana tonight and _laughing_? Why? Erumar was _right_ ; he was finding peace with himself for the first time since her death. He had…he had _never_ told that story to anyone. Why _her_? Was it because she knew grief like his? Or was it more than that? His hand tightened on his own chest.

Aragorn set his hand on the elf's arm. "Thranduil, it has been a long night already, and it is going to be longer still," he said. "We all have an important day tomorrow. Why do you not go and—"

"I cannot," he stated, shaking his head. "I could not sleep _before_ , that was the reason I was in the garden to begin. She met me there to walk; we had agreed this morning we would if we could not rest and that we might…"

"Take comfort in each other?"

"Yes," he said. "I…would never be able to sleep now." He looked at Aragorn. "Do not turn me away, please. I will only find myself in that garden again, and I would be staring at that statue all night."

"I would never send you out, Thranduil," Aragorn replied, his voice serious. "You are welcome to stay as long as you need…as long as you choose." He waved a hand about the room. "The House is yours. Please, make yourself at home and take a chair. Erumar will more than likely be sleeping on the divan in another hour or so."

Thranduil caught his arm before he made to walk back towards Arwen. "Elessar, your words, before, made me think about something the Evenstar asked me when I arrived, and I have meant to tell you…I have meant to tell you that I am sorry for the loss you have both suffered. Perhaps this is not the time, but this night is dreary as it is."

Aragorn gave him a weak smile. "Whatever you said to Arwen, I thank you for the words of comfort. Her nights can be so long sometimes."

"But you are strong for her," he said gently. Then he glanced back at the two elves seated on the floor before the fire. " _Erumar_ needs someone to be strong for her."

"So do you," Aragorn reminded him. "Perhaps you can find some strength in one another, some peace. Perhaps you can make one another more… _alive._ You are strong and kind, Thranduil, and Erumar is an excellent listener." He gave him a wry smile. "I should know."

"Yes, I…discovered that earlier," Thranduil replied.

"Perhaps you are both just what the other needs," Aragorn said gently and Thranduil said nothing, watching Erumar and Arwen. The man began to move away again.

"When she sleeps," Thranduil said, and Aragorn glanced back at him, "I would be willing to sit with her so that you both may take some rest. It makes no sense for all of us to remain awake. I would wake you when she does." Aragorn nodded in reply and Thranduil backed from the room to make some tea and then to find a place to sit and think.

* * *

Legolas and Enguina sat side by side on a blanket by the Anduin, her hands in his, their eyes on the moonlight. It had been a perfect night for a ride, the weather ideal, the moon just high enough for perfect lighting. Again, he could not help but find himself the luckiest man in all of Middle-Earth. Tomorrow would be _their_ day. It would be a day of firsts for both of them, a day of special celebration and special giving…he would become one with her in every way possible. He felt his heart swell inside his chest and he sighed as he looked upon her in the moonlight.

"Arwen was right," she said softly. "She always said this was the most beautiful place in all of Minas Tirith. She said that every time she was here she could cry with its majesty, its beauty. Finding beauty in a place so very different from your home is a gift. I am so glad we are here, this night before our wedding." She looked at him, and then smiled. "I am so…glad to be with you, here, in this peaceful place."

He tugged her gently, drawing her back against him and then dropping both of them on their backs on the blanket; she snuggled against his chest and both of them looked up at the stars. "Can we stay here all night?" she asked. "Go back in the morning?"

"We could," he replied. "No one is going to look for us. They know where we are."

"Mmm…" She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers in her hair. "I love you, Legolas…so much."

"You might sleep better out here," he said gently and he felt her sigh.

"It was a hard night last night," she said. "How is your neck? I felt so awful at dinner; I wanted to rub it so badly, but I thought it would be inappropriate and there would be questions that I simply could not answer."

"It is all right," he replied, "but do not worry about rubbing it. The dream last night was more difficult than usual."

"Yes," she whispered. "I have not dreamed about the words he spoke to me since the night I ran to the Embrasure. I…am glad you were there last night."

He thought about how he had fallen, how distraught she had been, how she had wept into him, how he had carried her to the bath and held her as she vomited and shivered. Then, he had drawn her a bath to make her warm, to help her feel clean; she had not wanted to, but he had practically forced her, and she cried when he had not been there beside her. She did not know it, but he had dug marks in the underneath of the bath door to prevent himself from entering, her whimpering cries so loud in his ears…and within his heart. She had called him the entire time she had been in the bath, but he could _not_ go to her, not like that, in her nakedness. He had dug the marks and destroyed his nails, clenched his jaw for nearly twenty minutes, and was so tense his back pained from being pressed against the wood. He had seen her, in his mind, the marks of Bragolaur yet on her skin as she scrubbed away at them…he did not know if the bruises had completely faded.

"Never again will that happen after tonight," he whispered. "Never again will I have to leave you to suffer alone." She opened her eyes and lifted her head from his chest to see his agonized face; his eyes were closed. "Last night…last night was the most difficult thing I have ever done."

"I thought that was in—"

"No…last night was much, much worse." She saw the way his jaw tightened, and raised a hand to cup his face. "I had to leave you in that bath alone…I _had_ to…and you…"

"I called for you, did I not?" she asked, feeling guilty at once. "Oh, forgive me, Legolas." He crisscrossed his fingers through hers and she noticed, for the first time, the edges of his cut fingers. "Did you do this last night?" she asked, touching his fingertips.

"Some of them," he replied honestly. "But I will not forgive you for calling for me. You needed me, yet I could not be there." She stroked his face.

"I…will be glad that after tonight we will not have to leave each other's side," she said, kissing his chin, and he opened his eyes. "Then _you_ can wash me clean." The last bit clearly had been meant to stay in her head, but the words had slipped out, and he watched her cheeks slowly turn pink. Legolas found himself thinking of the words of Éomer, of water and skin and soap and Enguina…

"Yes," he replied, brushing his fingertips along her cheek, "I think that would make me feel much better than leaving you alone."

"I should not have said that," she murmured. "It was…a bit too intimate." She lowered her head back to his chest so she did not need to look into his smoldering eyes. He continued to maneuver his fingers slowly along her face. "Perhaps we should get up," she suggested, and she could almost see him smile.

"Why? Because you are embarrassed by what you said in a moment of honest love? I am not sorry, and I would prefer to stay right where we are than move."

She laughed softly. "Now you are just being lazy."

" _Very_."

"What if we were to stay here all night, and then we would never exchange our gifts as we had set out to do?" She lifted her head. "Honestly, if we do not give one another our gifts, then we will have come all this way for—"

"Do not say _nothing_ ," he interrupted. "Is this not enough of a gift? To have the privilege of lying here beside one another, listening to the river and enjoying the sight of one another in the moonlight? Yes," he added, tangling his fingers in her hair, "a privilege indeed."

"Legolas, you are such a romantic."

He smiled. "As it turns out, I would like to give you your gift."

She sat up. "Can I give you yours first?"

"I…" he began, thinking as he sat up beside her. "No…this was my idea; I want to give you mine first." He heard her sigh as he leaned towards his saddle bag. "What is it?"

"But yours is probably so much better than mine."

"Our gifts are going to be perfect for each other," he said. "No gift will be better than the other. I will love it; you will love it. Very easy." He leaned back towards her. "Put out your hands."

"Well," she said dryly, cupping her hands, "at least it cannot be alive."

"Who said?" he asked, pausing in his act of maneuvering whatever-it-was from behind his back.

"Because it would be _dead_ by now, riding about all night in your saddle bag. _Legolas._ "

"If I could have found something small and furry in three seconds behind my back, you know I _just_ would have." He smiled tenderly at her and then set the wrapped object in her hands. "My gift to you, my Guin," he said, his voice dropping sweetly, "as a token…to demonstrate my love for you and made with my own hands."

She unwrapped it slowly and was stunned by the beauty of what he had made. It was a long spoon, carven out of cherry wood. Its handle was long with complicated knots at the top, a twist in the main handle, and a linked chain at the bottom before the scoop of the spoon. There were two symbols carved into it. Just below the series of knots there was a keyhole as for a door, then a vine that entwined with the top of the bell just above the linked chain. The effect was incredible; she sat, staring at it for many long minutes, simply taking it in. It was not a spoon to be used; it was a spoon to be cherished and hung in a place of honor…perhaps in the home they would share.

" _Elbereth_ ," she exclaimed softly, "this is so beautiful, Legolas…you _made_ this? You carved it with your own hands?"

"I have the cuts to prove it," he murmured, and then scooted closer to her, cupping his hands beneath hers. "Each one of these symbols means something to the Woodland Elves. Would you like to know what the symbols mean?"

"Yes, please…" she replied, trying to keep the lump out of her throat.

"These knots represent a love that will be ongoing, a forever, eternal love. The twisting of the wood represents the two of us, becoming as one," he continued, tracing a finger along it. "The linked chain is for children; this is a prayer to Ilúvatar for at least two…though I can hope for more." He chuckled softly when he said this and he heard her breath catch, knowing she was moved by his gift fanned the flame that had begun in his heart as he had been speaking. "The keyhole is for security, protection—I will be that for you, and you, for me. The vine is to symbolize the growth of our love as we continue through our lives together, and the bell is to symbolize our wedding…a celebration of who are in Ilúvatar as the bells ring out from the steeple of the church."

Her hands closed around it, listening to his words, and he covered hers with his own. "Do you like it?" he whispered.

She swallowed three times before she could speak. "I will cherish it always," she told him. "For you to have made something so beautiful with your own hands…for me…there are no words, Legolas. I hardly know what to say."

"I am glad you like it," he replied. "I was hoping you would…and I was unsure how it would come out. I have never carved anything before. It is rough, but it will do."

"It is not rough," she denied him, "it is perfect. When we will build our home in Ithilien it will…hang on the wall above our bed." She covered her mouth and laughed at herself as tears came down her face. He took her face in his hands.

"Meleth, why are you crying if you like it so much?"

"I—I cannot believe I am going to spend my life with someone so wonderful," she whispered hoarsely. "Legolas, you are…I never thought I would be here, choosing to marry someone who clearly loves me so much I…" she shook her head, unable to finish.

"I feel the same way," he admitted, wiping the tears from her face. He reached back down to her hands and took the spoon from her. "Let me set this down over here."

"Right," she said, laughing again at herself and continuing to wipe her tears away, "your gift." She reached over into her saddle bag and took out a folded piece of fabric. "I suppose your gift is really for both of us," she said sniffing, regaining control of her emotions.

"Yours was, too," he agreed, but he accepted what she held out to him and opened it up. "Guin, this is beautiful! Did you stitch this yourself?"

"It is going to be part of a quilt for the wall in the main room of the house we will build," she said. "My thought was that we will have a square added to it for every anniversary…and then for every other important thing that happens in our lives."

He studied the squares she had made in awe. They were perfect depictions of what had happened in their lives. There was a square with two figures riding on horseback in the snow, a picture of two figures sitting in a hollow of the mountain, an embroidered picture of two figures kneeling before one another, one holding on to the other, the other holding their hand to keep the figure's face pressed to their chest, another had a dancing couple on it, the colors perfect, another held two figures, their hands held with a light shining down behind them; and finally, a perfectly embroidered knotted heart in the center of them, larger than the other squares around it.

"This is…" he shook his head. "Please, tell me about them. What made you choose these?"

She swallowed, and touched each square as he had the spoon. "For now, the heart and knots for our love, everything you see grew out of that. The first day we spent riding together in the snow, when you discussed our faults and our gifts. The first day you took me to the mountains, the first time we really kissed. The way you have protected and shielded me from pain and by the grace of Ilúvatar have delivered me from the evil of my past, my dreams that have haunted my every step these long years." She swallowed again. "The last two show what I imagine the wedding to be like—the ceremony, our holding hands before the stained glass window with the light shining upon us; the other, us dancing as we have never danced before."

"But, how did you know the color?" he asked, shaking his head in astonishment. "How could you know the color so perfectly when you have not seen my tunic?"

She smiled. "I had to ask Gimli. I wanted it to be perfect."

"It is…it _is_ ," he repeated. "Could this gift be any more perfect?" He leaned forward and kissed her, then rested his brow upon hers. "Ilúvatar, how I love you! You cannot fathom the love that bursts in my heart!"

"Legolas, you have such a way with words. Your words move _my_ heart."

He laughed. "I have one more gift."

"No, you said one," she said firmly, tugging her head back.

"It is for both of us. I…took the liberty, several months ago of writing to Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. You might remember the name, though it was only mentioned in passing."

"Dol Amroth," she murmured, confused. "I _do_ recall it…Éomer's wife is his daughter, yes?"

Legolas nodded. "I wrote to him because I thought that it would be a beautiful place to travel before we begin constructing our home in Ithilien. Dol Amroth is on the Bay of Belfalas, before the Great Sea. Aragorn and Arwen traveled there briefly after the War and said the place is beyond words. I thought that perhaps, as you have seen the Havens and I have not, that perhaps we shall visit the Sea. It does not have to be a long trip, but it would be part of Middle-Earth you have never seen and…it would draw out our idea to have a bit more celebration alone. To travel alone, stay where we choose and enjoy each other. Imrahil has welcomed us with open arms."

" _I love it_ ," she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck, and they kissed several times before she rested her forehead against his brow again. "Oh Legolas…being married to you is going to be the most wonderful thing that has ever touched my life. I am so…so blessed I could _never_ praise Ilúvatar enough for the gift of your boundless love."

 _Enguina…Enguina…meleth nîn…_

She heard the words clearly in her head along with a burst of joy so incredible her knees weakened; she was glad to be sitting down. She felt his arms around her, holding her steady, and she knew that he knew very well what he had done; that he had called to her, that she had heard him, responded. Her hands trembled as they rested against the back of his neck.

"If that is a taste of what it is going to feel like tomorrow night," she whispered, her breath a caress on his lips, "connecting with you, feeling what you feel…then I will _never_ think of him. Perhaps ever again."

"Ilúvatar is _so good_ ," he whispered, and he closed the last bit of space between them.


	51. Chapter 51

Aragorn shifted slightly in his sleepiness, finding he was lying on his back; this was strange in itself, as he never slept this way—too open for attack. As a Ranger, you would never present your heart in such a way as to be a target. It could mean a quick death, though, he supposed that he had nothing to fear in his own bedroom. He felt her there beside him, the warmth of her pressed against his side, her foot and knee resting over his leg as she lay, curled into his body, the pressure of her head against his right shoulder. She was awake; he need not open his eyes to know that as her fingers were tracing along his collarbone, touching the skin of his neck and chest where the tunic was open. He breathed slowly, enjoying the feel of her hands. This was the way to come back to the world from dreaming.

He did not move again, but she knew by the way his heartbeat changed that he was awake. She smiled; he knew by the way her muscles moved against him. She did not stop her tracing against him.

"Today is the day," she said. He sighed with pleasure at her musical voice.

"Indeed it is." His arm tightened a bit around her back, holding her more closely to him.

"The sun is glorious."

"Ilúvatar is good," he said reaching over to bring a hand through her thick hair. "I have asked for this day for Legolas since I first knew him. It is a blessing that they have found one another."

She lifted her head slowly and pressed a kiss against the center of his chest; his hand still winding slowly through her hair. "I love waking you up," she murmured, looking up at him from that place on his chest. "Watching you respond to me, even in sleep…giving you good dreams…"

" _Very_ good dreams," he added in the same voice.

She brushed her lips to his chin and then he tilted his head a bit more so she could kiss him tenderly without changing her position too much. "Claiming the first kisses of the morning…"

"Mmm…you do so like to be the first though seldom are," he reminded her gently. "The one morning I remember you woke me, you were singing so beautifully…"

She smiled. "You remember that well. Perhaps when I wake with a song in my heart I will share it with you again. You so often do with me.

" _You_ make my heart sing."

Arwen settled her head back in the crook of his shoulder. "It is early yet," she said, "and it will be a long, beautiful day."

"We can lie here a little while longer," he whispered as she slipped her arm over him and curled more firmly against his body, "and enjoy the silence…"

"Enjoy each other…the feel of you beside me."

"I love weddings," he sighed and she smiled.

"What the One has joined let no man come between."

He closed his eyes then, and remembered who was in the other room, opened them again. "Have you heard Erumar this morning? Is she awake yet?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice quiet, "for a little while. Thranduil has made her some tea."

"She will be…all right?"

Arwen nodded, setting her hand once again in the center of his chest as she felt him tighten as if he were going to rise. "She needs to collect herself from last night before she sees us, otherwise she will only break down again. Give her some time…close your eyes." She lifted her hand and stroked her long fingers down across his face.

He trusted her judgment and obeyed.

* * *

The two of them had remained beside the Anduin that night, holding each other into the early hours of the morning. Legolas found that Aragorn had been right: one of the most beautiful things in his life was to watch the sun rise on Enguina's face and the sunlight comb through her hair, to watch her slowly wake to the dawn, to see the smile form on her lips when she found him watching her. Yes… _this_ was what he lived for.

He could have said in that moment, in complete honesty, that he had never seen anything more breathtakingly beautiful…and that his heart was so completely hers it was no longer in his chest—it was within her hands for eternity.

"You have my heart," he told her softly.

"It is too early to be awake," she whispered back, her voice full of sleep. "You have been awake for quite a while and I…want to go back to sleep."

"We have a bit of a ride back," he said, a smile on his face.

"Oh," she murmured, blinking sleepily. "We are not in the guesthouse…I forgot."

"Guin…"

"What, my love?"

"We are getting married in seven hours."

She closed her eyes blissfully as his lips touched her forehead, and then sighed. "Mmmm…how wonderful. Do you think the others are awake and waiting for us?"

"Erumar is doing your hair, yes?"

"If she will consent."

"Then she is definitely awake. Arwen is awake out of nervous energy, Aragorn is awake because she is…my father is wandering about the garden. Gimli is snoring. Does that cover everyone who has a part in preparing you?"

She giggled. "Gimli does not have a part!"

"No, but he _is_ the best dwarf. He is coming with me."

"Your father does not either."

"Again, with me."

She lifted her head. "Eru in Heaven, we are getting married. _Today_."

"In six hours and fifty-seven minutes."

She giggled again, pulling herself up level with his face so she could kiss him. "And to think, it is tradition that the bride and bridegroom are not to see one another on the morning of the wedding. Here we are, lying on the banks of the Anduin in each other's arms."

"Well, we are nothing at this point if not tradition-breakers," he laughed. "We must spend at least the next hour or so together as we have to ride into the City." He stroked her hair and she turned her head to kiss his hand and then his wrist and then whatever else was within lips' reach. " _Guin..."_

 _"_ I know, I know," she murmured, but it appeared she had a very difficult time pulling her face back to kiss his face and not his arm. He smiled.

"We probably have…" he rolled his eyes, thinking and calculating, "about seventeen hours before we are allowed to even _think_ about any more private celebration."

She groaned, rolling onto her back and away from his chest. "May Ilúvatar rescue me from this long, terrible wait." She rubbed her face with both of her hands.

He laughed aloud, sitting up. "My dearest, I thought you were nervous?"

"I _will_ be then…but at the moment…" she sighed, pulling her hands down, "I am ready for it, ready for you…ready to love you so completely."

"Ready, hmm?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Ready."

"And you said that without even a _bit_ of a blush. I am impressed."

"You should be. It is probably because I am not entirely awake yet."

"Good," he said, "because I wrote something about you on this wedding morning."

"You did not," she asked, and he leaned down and kissed her again.

"Yes, and I am going to sing it for you."

 _What a glorious morning!_

 _Eru's sun is rising high_

 _Shining bright through the sky_

 _Happiness upon me without warning_

 _Delight, utter joy fills my heart_

 _To stand in this place so dear_

 _To know the day is finally here_

 _A whole shall be made of two parts_

 _One part of a gloriously designed love_

 _One part of a soul's peaceful wish_

 _A pledge that will be sealed with a kiss_

 _I shall be wed to my dove._

 _There she walks upon this morn_

 _Her golden hair, her soft green eyes_

 _O! to touch her now, my hand, it tries_

 _But here I know I have been warned!_

 _To touch the bride before we wed_

 _On the morning of cannot be done!_

 _Though she glistens like the sun_

 _Even looking on her is not right, it is said_

 _But what can be done as here I remain_

 _I still try to catch her eye_

 _I cannot speak but still I sigh_

 _For bare my desires are now lain_

 _She looks my way and meets my gaze_

 _And to me she walks, my love of all days!_

She laughed and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, now sitting up beside him. "Oh, Legolas, but I am not walking!"

"I know," he said, smiling back. "It is only a song, my dove."

"I love everything you call me," she whispered. "I _know_ we are not supposed to be together the morning of the wedding. You are supposed to wait to see me."

"I will have to anyway," he said. "You are not going to be in your dress in the next few minutes or after we ride into the City. Do you think they will be upset we stayed out here all night?"

"Honestly, I think they all know us well-enough by now not to worry."

"Except when we were both taken."

She rolled her eyes. " _Yes_ , Legolas, except for that."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "One last kiss…and then we should go?"

She smiled as she tightened her fingers around his neck. "Maybe a few more. _Then_ we can go."

* * *

Thranduil walked into the sitting room bearing two cups of steaming tea and a wet towel. She had made a place for him beside her on the divan so he could sit, the blankets moved. She was sitting there much as she had been on the wall the previous morning, legs tucked to the side, hands in her lap, dirty thumbs rubbing her dirty fingers. Again, the movement distracted him and drew his eyes directly to them. Her face was still filthy from dirt and her tears from last night, but she either did not know or she did not care how she appeared at the moment.

He sat down beside her and held out the mug. Erumar had been completely silent so far, doing no more than nodding or shaking her head. He wondered if she could speak, or if her throat was too sore to make sound. She took the cup and held it between her hands, though he thought it was a bit hot to being doing that.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was soft, but at least it did not sound painful. He nodded as she studied the swirling liquid and her filthy hands and nails. "I…"

"No," he said gently. "It seems I must beg your forgiveness again. You cannot be held for anything that happened last night. I…did not know. I would never have taken you there."

"I do not even know what happened," she said. "I do not remember very much…"

"Here," he said, extending her the towel and reaching for her cup after setting his down, "give me that and clean your hands. I should have given you this first." She gave him the cup—he had no idea how she had been holding it that way, it was _far_ too hot—and began wiping her hands; the nails would have to be done later. When she was finished there, he nodded towards her. "You can wash your face as well."

She did, slowly. She could not see what she was doing, but she managed to get every last bit of dirt as if she knew where it was. Dropping the towel beside the divan, she reached back to take the cup again. She felt a bit more awake now, the warm water helping. The muscles in her face hurt…in fact, muscles everywhere hurt, which told her she had spent too much time frozen and stiff. The ache in her chest was the worst, but there was nothing that would take that away.

"You are still tired," he told her. "Perhaps you should sleep a bit longer."

She lifted her head and looked around for the first time. "This is not the guesthouse."

"No, we are in the King's House and they are still sleeping in the other room. When you…fell last night, I sent for them. I did not understand at first; then I understood."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Plenty of time before the wedding, I assure you," he said. He could sit here and let her dwell on this all morning long, or he could change this day for her, for them, starting now. He weighed his options, wondering what her response would be—then he made his choice anyway. "I was thinking about making some breakfast cakes, and I am now sure I would like to do it. Would you like something?"

"Kings do not cook."

He laughed. "When they are in the wilds they do. I grant you I have not made them for many years as too many other people choose to cook for me now, but…there it is. Would you like some? They are the perfect breakfast before a wedding."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. It was clear she knew what he was doing. "How would you know? How many weddings have there been in the Greenwood in the last few hundred years?" He did not waste time thinking about it.

"It is a new tradition I am beginning right now," he said, taking to his feet. "Breakfast cakes with…pecans, and possibly maple syrup if I can find some in this strange kitchen, but…you stay there and drink your tea." He turned towards the kitchen as he began walking, glancing over his shoulder and giving her a devious little smile. "I will be in here…making as big a mess as I choose."

He was taunting her, and she could see it for exactly what it was he was _really_ doing. He left the room and she watched after him, staring at the empty doorway. When she heard a fire being lit and a pan or two, she swung her feet to the floor, set down her mug, and got to her feet.

"Here, Thranduil," she said, sighing as she entered the kitchen, "let me at least help you figure out this strange kitchen."

* * *

 _Today is the day._

 _Today is the day!_

Legolas stood staring at his own reflection in the mirror of his old room. Dressed in the silvery blue tunic he had finally chosen, he had to admit that he knew Enguina would think him handsome. He was expecting with little doubt that the dress Enguina would be wearing would leave him breathless. He could only hope that he began to breathe again after he had seen her. He would have to mention that to Aragorn when they arrived at the church so he could remind him to breathe if he forgot.

He would be marrying Enguina in little over two hours. His heart raced and soared! When they had finally returned from the Anduin, they had come to the King's House to find his _father_ cooking a very lovely version of Arwen's pan cakes while laughing with Erumar. Aragorn and Arwen were not even out of bed yet. When he had asked his father about the pecan cakes and what had brought them on, he had replied that he had wanted to make something special. His father had not cooked those cakes for him since he was a young elf, and so amazed was he that he could think of nothing else to say. Enguina had told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were delicious. It _was_ the perfect morning.

Enguina would be getting her hair finished soon and then dressed. She was to process down from the seventh level to the church on the fifth, and the anticipation was _killing_ him. She would be so beautiful! His heart was soaring! If someone were to speak to him right now, he would barely be able to respond with functional words! He was marrying the woman that he had longed for his entire life; but no, that was no true…she was far more than he had longed for, than he had ever expected. Ilúvatar was so good.

 _I praise you, Father! I praise you for the gift of this day! I pray that everything will go exactly as you choose, that everything will happen according to your will, and that bride and bridegroom will rejoice with exceedingly great joy over one another! This is the day that you have made for us. This is the day that I will give myself to my love for the rest of my life; that I will think of her first always, that I will care for our children, that I will make her a home and love her and cherish her. Oh! This is what I have longed for! Make me a blessing to her for eternity!_

He opened his eyes and his smile was so huge he thought the mirror might crack. He laughed hilariously for one joyous moment and then danced around in a circle, so _full_ of joy he could burst! The mutterings of Gimli fell on his ears and he knew the dwarf must be talking about him to himself, but he simply could not be brought down from the rafters of this place. He wanted to stand on every rooftop and _shout_ his delight!

Suddenly, Legolas stopped and turned to the left, leaning backwards to see the tunic. _It was torn_. That was impossible! He grabbed the edge of it, flailing fingers missing it the first time before he could snatch the pieces in sheer panic. No! No, it was not possible! He had _looked_ at it just yesterday when he had finished the love spoon and it had been perfect. Horrified, he looked at the sun again. Not two _hours_ before the wedding—could it be mended?

" _Gimli!_ " he yelped in a panic. To think that moments ago he had been dancing around in this room and now, now his heart was in his throat.

"What's the matter with ya, elf?" hollered Gimli, shoving his head in the open door. "First you were laughing, then you were dancing, now yer—"

"Gimli, _look!_ " he said, holding the edges and spinning toward the dwarf. "How could it have happened? I was—I just looked at it yesterday! How could this _be?_ " His last words were a moan.

"Probably you're _dancing_ ," Gimli said gruffly, but Legolas could not bear to laugh at his teasing.

"What am I going to do?" he asked. "How can I wear this when—"

"Keep yer shirt on, laddie," the dwarf said, coming closer to inspect it. "That's not even on a seam. Not sure if they can fix that one."

" _What?_ " Legolas cried, his heart plummeting towards his toes. "B-b-but this is the tunic! This is the _one_ , Gimli! Call the tailor! How can I wear anything else?"

"I'll go get them, but I really don't think it can be mended. I'm sorry, lad," he said, looking quite sad. "You're bound to have something in there that's good eno—"

" _Good enough_?" echoed Legolas, looking abashed. "There is no such thing! This is our _wedding_! I am not just wearing _anything!_ " Gimli shook his head and turned to look in the wardrobe. "Gimli, I will go _naked_ to the wedding before I wear something from that wardrobe."

The dwarf burst out laughing and turned to him. "I bet everyone in Minas Tirith'd love _that_!"

He blushed terribly, embarrassed. "Well…" he stuttered, "perhaps not _naked_. Shirtless?"

"Oh, Legolas, I can't stand to see you so upset! Come 'ere!"

"What?" he asked, confused when the dwarf went into his room. "Why?" He followed him over to find the dwarf reaching into the wardrobe—and pulling out a silvery-blue tunic. "What…what is _that_?"

"Your tunic," Gimli sighed. " _Someone_ had an extra one made so you'd be in a panic, but I just don't have the heart for it. You were singin' and dancin' all morning and I just can't let you go on like that and toy with ya. Here."

Legolas stood, staring at him. " _Someone?_ " For one irrational moment he was so furious he was going to strangle Gimli then and there…and then he breathed…and then he yelled, " _Enguina_!" When he was finished calling her name aloud, he sighed loudly and reached for the tunic.

Gimli tugged it out of his reach. "I'm a bit afraid you're going to wreck it if I give it to you right now." Legolas stood still and shook his head.

"Hand it over, ridiculous dwarf. I am hardly going to do anything to the real one."

He smirked at the elf and extended it again. Legolas took it, and Gimli laughed. "It _was_ a good one though, wasn't it? She thought of that one herself."

"I shall destroy you for helping her _after_ the wedding. I want you to see me get married." He said it with such a serious voice too…but Gimli was having none of it. As soon as he stepped out, the dwarf doubled over laughing.

* * *

Enguina rubbed the towel along her skin and stood beside the floor-length mirror that was in the bath at the King's House. She was alone at the moment; this was the _second_ bath she had taken today, her hair already finished by Erumar. Staring at it, she had never known when it had looked lovelier—Erumar _had_ outdone herself. Arwen had smiled and nodded when she had asked if she could bathe again, and Erumar had simply rolled her eyes and laughed, heading out onto the porch where Thranduil waited for them. Erumar was getting ready last as she was to braid and prepare Lómë for the processional. Thranduil would be leading her down.

This whole… _procession_ idea had been Arwen's baby. Mentioned not even a few mornings ago, Enguina had been embarrassed about being on parade for everyone. Arwen had just shaken her head. _He will love it_ , she had said about Legolas. _Let him wait for you to arrive…suspense is a good thing on the wedding day. The people will love it, too. They are as excited for this wedding to take place as you are._ Enguina _was_ excited; she simply did not want to make a fool of herself. She had never ridden side-saddle before, but Arwen had done it through the City on several formal occasions and told her there was nothing to it. Aside from that, Lómë was being led by her choice, Thranduil. Nothing would happen. Arwen and Erumar were to walk before the horse with Annî and the children of the City dropping rose petals. Éowyn would have walked with them, but being so pregnant she would not be making the long trek. Arwen would watch over Annî. It was perfect…except…

She let the towel fall, dry now, and stared at herself. Yes, her hair was beautiful but…what about the rest of her? She had been laughing this morning with Legolas about being so _ready_ to love him; now, she was not so sure. In little less than twelve hours he would be touching her with his hands, his mouth, kissing her skin…and she wanted that. She _did_. But…her fingers traced the little dagger scars where Bragolaur had held the knife to her side—they had not quite faded. She could still see the disappearing teeth marks where he had pinched her tightly, most seriously under her left arm where she had her hands tied up over her head, where her skin was very sensitive, and the side of her right breast. Places she had no cause to look in the past days…places out of anyone's sight but her soon-to-be husband's. She traced the mark with now-trembling fingers. _Thank Ilúvatar_ that the bruises on her left hip had faded. If they had not, she would _never_ have let him see her.

But perhaps…perhaps she could beg him to not look at her? She reached up and roughly brushed her eyes, furious at herself for crying. Now? Two hours before the wedding? How in the world would she accomplish that? She could hear herself now: _Legolas…can we make love where we cannot see each other, please?_ Or even better— _Can we wait until all of my scars are healed_? She brushed the tears away again, getting more upset by the second. _Legolas, can we just wait for this? I know I am not ready! I thought I was...I thought I was but I-I—_

"Enguina?" called Arwen softly from the bath door, tapping gently. "Have you finished?" She entered, bearing the shift for her to wear beneath the wedding gown which lay on their bed in the other room. " _Enguina_..." she chided, rolling her eyes, "you are not even—"

Abruptly, and without really realizing she knew what was going to happen before it happened, Arwen dropped the shift and caught Enguina, who had fled across the room and into her arms at the sound of her voice. Flinging herself into Arwen, Enguina buried her face in her neck and the younger elf held her gently.

"Oh, shhh…" she whispered, cupping the back of her neck gently. "Shh…what is the matter? Why are you trembling? Why are you crying, sweet one?"

"I thought I would have accepted this by now," she cried softly into her. "I have not looked at them in days…I thought…I thought they were gone…"

"At them?" Arwen asked, confused.

"The _scars_ …I can see them…that means _he_ will see them tonight… _touch_ them…"

"Oh," Arwen sighed gently, Enguina's pain washing over her. She held her more tightly. "Oh, my dearest…"

"What am I going to _do_?" she whispered. "How can he touch me when I still…when there are still _reminders_ of what happened, of what he _did_ to me? _God, Arwen,_ _help me!_ "

"Shhh…shhh…" she whispered, stroking the back of her neck. "Enguina, Enguina…these _reminders_ , as you call them…they do not matter."

She choked on her tears. "Yes they _do_!"

"No, no…they do not. Legolas is not going to see these light marks and think of Bragolaur as you have; he is going to be focused on you. If Legolas does see them he will bypass them in the rest of your beauty. They will not be a thought in his mind, and he would never call them to your attention, and you will forget them in the moments you are with him, beside him, when his hands are on you. Oh, sweet one…everyone has scars, imperfections. Visible or not, Legolas will not call them out to you."

"What if he _touches_ them?" she moaned. "What if he touches them and I—"

"He is _going_ to touch them," she told her and heard Enguina's breath catch as she let out a sob. "He will be touching every part of you, just as you will him. Nothing can stop that; and if you were to ask him not to, he would forget to not do it. He will be so lost in caressing your skin he will be unable to think clearly."

" _I am terrified_!"

She laughed softly, rocking her gently. "It is all right! He is, too; he has never stood before a woman…he has his own fears about what you will think, that you will see him, and his scars…what you will see in his imperfections…"

Enguina shook her head fiercely. "He does not have imperfections!"

Arwen laughed again, tears in her eyes. "Whether they are imperfections to you means nothing; that is what they are to _him_ , just as yours are _glaring_ to you. He will not even _see_ these little scars…I promise you."

"How can you…how can you promise such a thing? How can you know?"

"Enguina, would you see a hair out of place in a beautiful drawing?" she murmured. "Would you feel a speck of dirt on Legolas's hand when you touch it?"

"No," she whispered, sniffing, confused by the question. "I am trying to hold his hand. I would not notice a speck of dirt."

"He is going to have _all_ of you, to touch and explore and love. He is not going to stop at one tiny mark…no matter how large they seem to you. You are a masterpiece, and he is going to be made breathless by you."

"Do you promise that, too?" she whispered, lifting her head.

Arwen smiled and kissed her on the forehead. " _Yes_. You wait and see." She laid her hands on Enguina's face and gently wiped her tears. "Everything is going to be all right, dearest." Enguina nodded, trying to gather herself.

"What if I cry the whole time?" she whispered, ashamed, when Arwen handed her the shift she picked up from the floor. Enguina took it to the table and began putting on the undergarments as Arwen drained the bath.

"Enguina, I cried through much of my first time with Aragorn…so did he."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Enguina glanced over at Arwen; she, too, was not wearing her dress yet. "Arwen, is that…is that how you felt with Aragorn?" she asked, pulling the slip over her head and adjusting it correctly.

"Is what how I felt?"

"That you could overlook the little scars and focus on…him?"

Arwen hesitated and then chose to be honest. "No. Aragorn has been wandering in the Wild for over sixty years, Enguina; he has so many scars that I…I cried when I touched him, when I ran my hand over his back the first time." She closed her eyes at the memory. "The things he had suffered…I had no idea. There were so many things that he had never told me, still has not told me, that he does not wish me to know the truth of. I cried because of what he had experienced, not because I pitied him. I cried because I wished I could have spent the last sixty years loving him instead of him going through trials by fire. We had waited _so long_ to be together."

She opened her eyes, saw Enguina standing beside her and reached out to touch her cheek. "Legolas knows your scars, Enguina…you have nothing to hide and nothing to fear. And though I hope you will have settled that in your heart about your scars before you cross that threshold tonight…I know very well that you will be afraid, even if only for a few moments. It _is_ frightening to offer yourself to another person; he will be feeling it too."

 _If we are afraid, then we will be afraid together._ Enguina sighed, hearing his words in her head. "I hope I do not feel it…but at least I will be ready for it." Her eyes flooded again. "I would never survive this without all of you."

Arwen leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Come, and let us get this dress on you."

There was the sound of a throat being cleared and both of them looked to the door to see Erumar poking her head inside. "Honestly, I _know_ that it is customary for the bride to be a bit late, but do you not think this is bordering on the ridiculous?"

"What time is it?" Enguina practically squeaked, and Arwen laughed.

"Let _me_ worry of the time," Arwen said laughing and taking her by the hand to escort her from the room. "Let _Erumar_ worry about Lómë. And we will let _you_ worry about putting on this dress."

"He is ready and waiting for the bride…as is Thranduil…and the bridegroom is probably already in fits," Erumar pointed out, following them. "Arwen, let _me_ help her with that. You need your dress on as well."

"Oh, all right."

Enguina turned to look at Erumar, beautiful in her own right wearing a dress the color of morning glories. "Shame on me for not realizing you were dressed already! You are beautiful, Erumar, and that dress is perfect."

"Thank you," she replied, scooping Enguina's dress off the bed. "And _you_ are going to be absolutely gorgeous in this dress. No one is going to be able to stop looking at you."

"Ugh, _please_ do not say that. I am nervous enough!"

It took Enguina a few moments to get the dress to lay correctly, and by that time, Arwen was beside her, finishing up the buttons on the back of the dress and making sure everything was in place. She added a few more sparkles to Enguina's hair and then she and Erumar stood back to look at her; there were tears shining in their eyes when they did and Erumar covered her mouth with her hands, unable to speak. She turned away and left the room as Arwen just smiled.

"Stop staring," Enguina said, but she could see the love shining in Arwen's face. "I cannot cry again, you know."

"These are _good_ tears. Now…you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Dressed in white, a train that would follow the dress down the aisle of the cathedral, a few tendrils of hair coming down to her shoulders, Enguina _was_ stunning. "Legolas may stop breathing when he sees you."

"As long as he begins again," she murmured and Arwen laughed, taking her hands.

"It is almost time. Are you ready?"

"I do not know if I could ever _really_ be ready."

"You _look_ ready. Come along?" Enguina nodded and Arwen led her out into the sitting room where Erumar and Thranduil stood waiting. "She is ready," she said with a smile, stepping out of her way, "but she is nervous!"

"By Elbereth, do not tease me! This is difficult enough," groaned Enguina, finding herself thinking Thranduil was more handsome than he had ever appeared before to her; dressed in gold, a crown on his brow, he looked every bit a King. It produced a sudden and strong desire to see Legolas.

Thranduil stared at her; Arwen was still smiling; Erumar was wiping her eyes. "Why are you all doing that?" Enguina asked embarrassed.

"My dear, you better get used to it," Thranduil said gently. Then he had to smile. "And _I_ had better enjoy this sight," he said, looking at the three of them. "Never before have I been in a room with so much beauty. But the bride…" He stepped forward and extended his hands for hers. She slipped hers into his and he smiled. "You are the most stunning bride I have ever seen."

She swallowed, embarrassed. " _Thranduil_ …"

"My dear, are you ready to wed my son?" he asked her softly.

"I am _not_ ready," she gasped, and she tried to blink her tears away, "but I have never wanted anything more in my whole life."

"Enguina," he said, still in that same, serious voice, "I have wanted nothing but the best for my son. I have desired nothing else but his happiness and his safety for years. He has found his life's greatest joy in you. I have come to know you, these past days, and I have come to see what a joy it will be to have you as part of our family, and what a blessing it is to know that you love my son." Enguina choked back tears, but he was not finished. "I am honored to escort you to the wedding and to join your hand in the hand of my son. I am honored to call you my daughter."

He slipped his arms around her and tears fell on her face; she tried to prevent them, to have some control, but there was nothing she could do and it only made the moment worse trying to stop them. After a moment, he let her go and held her back by her shoulders, smiling at her.

"Now, let us get you up on Lómë, hmm?" She nodded, listening to all of the sniffing in the room as everyone tried to pull themselves together, but then she found herself escorted from the King's House and suddenly outside.

There was exclamation after exclamation. She could hardly look up, but she did, finding a throng of people and guards of the White Tree standing along the way, keeping a line of stone open for the procession. She saw Lómë, coat shining, the gardenias Erumar had woven into his mane as stunning to her as the dress she wore. He was so handsome; she reached out and stroked his face once with her hand.

"Take me to Legolas, Lómë," she whispered and he bowed his head to her.

She mounted from the highest step of the porch, Erumar and Arwen, and even Thranduil helping to spread out the gown along Lómë's gleaming coat. Once they were certain everything was arrayed perfectly, Arwen reached up and handed her the gardenia and morning glory bouquet and she stared at them in wonder.

"How—"

"Thranduil found them in the garden this morning and they stayed open for you," Arwen replied and then she kissed Enguina's hand. She found, a little stunned, that Arwen's were shaking as she squeezed her hand tight and then released her. " _Oh, enjoy this day, Enguina_ ," she whispered.

" _I will_ ," she promised, and Arwen stepped away from her and met Erumar who had Annî's shoulders in her hand. Thranduil untied the stallion and smiled up at her; he said nothing more. There were several other Gondorian children there to help spread the flowers, each of them carrying baskets of rose petals. Annî began, the other children at her side in the joyous celebration and they laughed and tossed the petals into the air. Arwen and Erumar walked, side-by side, both bearing bouquets of the same flowers, Arwen's dress a pale purplish-blue, Erumar's darker. And then, behind them through the exclaiming crowd, walked Thranduil leading Lómë, who, with his head held high, bore Enguina down the cobblestone street to her beloved.


	52. Chapter 52

The snake of nervousness was winding its way through Legolas's stomach as though it had been caged up for thousands of years and was just now getting its first taste of freedom. He could _hear_ the thronging people. He _knew_ that Enguina was on her way to him. The levels of Minas Tirith were laid out so that he would not be able to see her until she was almost upon him. It was torture…and bliss at the same time. He _wanted_ to prolong the agony. He wanted to savor and treasure every moment he stood on these stone steps, waiting for her to come to him. This was what he had waited his entire life for.

Standing there, on that stone, just inside the church, he _was_ nervous; nerves were completely foreign to him. Loving Enguina had been easy, like breathing…now, he felt as though he would have enough anxiety today to last him a lifetime. A bell tolled somewhere in the City and he smiled. When the one above his head was rung, he would be a married man and Enguina would be his wife. Oh yes, he wanted this more than anything. He looked down and studied his hands, thinking that he could not possibly wait until that ring was on his finger. He envisioned her sliding it onto his hand as he had seen Arwen do with Aragorn. Then he thought about how Aragorn slipped it on hers—and his stomach dropped into his toes. He whirled to Aragorn, who stood beside him looking every bit a King and he looked at the elf.

"You need to not turn so abruptly," he said, reaching up and fixing the circlet of gold on Legolas's head. "What is the matter?"

"What if I drop the ring when I go to slide it onto her hand?" he asked, his eyes full of worry. "What if my hands are shaking so badly I drop it?"

Aragorn took his shoulders in his hands. "I shall lean down, take the ring, and place it back in your hand and you shall try again." He laughed. "You would not be the first man to drop the ring, Legolas. Men have been marrying since the dawn of time."

"What if it bounces away and you cannot _find_ it?" he asked and Aragorn heaved a sigh of longsuffering.

"Well then, I shall just have to give you mine to put on her hand."

Legolas stared at him a moment, and the image of Aragorn's ring on Enguina's hand made him suddenly laugh. "Ugh…I am being so ridiculous," he said sheepishly.

"Yes," Aragorn laughed with him, "but it is fine. Relax and breathe…she is on her way."

"I feel like my knees are shaking. Is it obvious how nervous I am? How excited? Were you this nervous when you married Arwen?"

"No, I was not. I had waited over thirty years to wed her, so I was _not_ nervous for the ceremony—that was easy. I _was_ nervous for the coronation, so I know what you are feeling; I do understand it."

"I remember," he replied.

"And no," the man added, "you cannot tell that your knees are shaking."

Legolas laughed. "Thank you!"

At that moment, Gimli walked up to them, his cape billowing out behind him as he took his place next to Legolas. "Well, Éowyn is finally seated down front with Faramir fawning over her. He'll be up in a moment with the rings, I'm sure. Did Éomer catch you?"

"Yes, he already stopped to wish me luck," Legolas replied, smiling.

"Well, the last great adventure for the Three Hunters, eh? Marriage!"

"I have already been sharing that adventure for seven years," Aragorn said wryly. "And when are _you_ getting married, Master Dwarf? I have not seen many bearded ladies about."

"Well, I meant for Legolas of course!" He shook his head and then spotted Faramir. "Ah, here he is, the man of the hour! Faramir, the rings!"

"What?" the mas asked, leaning closer and looking confused. "What rings?"

Gimli glared daggers at him. "Don't ' _what_ _rings'_ me! The _wedding_ rings, you rascal!"

"I do not have them," Faramir said, a bit guiltily _and_ honestly.

"What?" asked Aragorn, staring at him.

"Where are they?"

"Annî had them this morning, and I spent the entire _rest_ of the morning looking for them while she was getting ready. That is why I came back here; I cannot find them." They stared at him, unable to believe his words with Legolas's mouth was moving but there were no words he could come out with.

"All right, Faramir," said Éomer, rolling his eyes and stepping up next to Gimli. "Enough toying with them. Here they are, safe and sound." He put them in Gimli's hand.

"Why you—" he began to snarl but Legolas shook his head, setting his hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

"Who put you up to that, Faramir, Éomer? Enguina, hmmm?"

"I will not say," Faramir stated but Éomer was nodding in the background.

"Well, I _must_ say you did a marvelous job pretending; I completely believed you. She got me twice today." He sighed. "At least everyone is here."

"There is an idea!" cried Faramir. "Why do I not tell you of all the people who are here to see the two of you get married?"

Legolas paled. " _Faramir—_ "

"Look! There are the kin of Gimli! And there are the guards from the Citadel who respect you and know you well. Even Cirgon has come today!"

" _Faramir_ ," Legolas said, gripping his arms and forcing the man to look at him. "You are making me _ill_! I do not need a list!"

He laughed holding up a hand. "I was only trying to—"

"Do not say _help_ ," Éomer insisted, rolling his eyes. "He did the same thing at _my_ wedding. Of course, I hit him quite hard for it."

"I might still have the bruise," complained Faramir.

"Legolas, did you say everyone is here?" asked Gimli, and suddenly, he looked about.

"Of course," he laughed. "Where else would they be?"

"Where is the Elven King?"

"What?"

"That is an excellent question," added Aragorn, looking around himself. "Where _is_ Thranduil?"

"I'll search the people seated!" cried Gimli as Legolas had a moment of extreme panic race through his heart. Aragorn reached out as the dwarf turned to run down the aisle.

"Gimli, we never _look_ as though we are panicked. Stay calm and relax."

"We will look down the front near Éowyn," Éomer offered, and the three of them disappeared to find him.

"Where could he possibly be?" asked Legolas. "He _must_ be right here." His heart was racing now, and he needed to calm down. He could hear that the shouts of joy were growing louder; Enguina was on the sixth level, headed toward him faster than he could have thought possible. He focused on her, closing his eyes. Her beauty, her laugh…thought about her gift to him of the quilt that included the special times that they already remembered together, that even if they were difficult they had shared and cherished. They had grown closer because of them. He tried to stay focused on that and _not_ on his anxiety…but his anxiety won out. "Can I get married without my father present?" he asked Aragorn.

The man simply shook his head. "He will be here; stop worrying."

Gimli came back, pale. "I can't find him! Do you think it's possible that the fiend of a woman you're marrying may have locked him in a broom cupboard somewhere?"

"Gimli!" said Aragorn. "Watch your tongue."

"That is my bride you are speaking of!" cried Legolas, horrified. "She would never do such a thing!" Gimli groaned and crossed his arms.

"Well, I was just saying that you've been playing all these confounded tricks on each other! Perhaps this is just one more! And I met Faramir and Éomer down the front and they haven't seen him either. What should I do?"

"Calm down, first of all," Aragorn stated firmly. "You are only making Legolas _more_ anxious. Thranduil is here, somewhere, so stop your fretting, both of you. And Legolas, I would breathe…your bride is almost here. The children have come with the flowers."

Legolas's heart rose into his chest and the three of them stepped out onto the front dais of the church, Gimli first, then Aragorn, then Legolas. When the children arrived, laughing and giggling and spreading petals, Legolas _still_ could not see up the street for the throngs of people that were present. As Annî rounded the corner, looking precious in her little dress and flinging rose petals everywhere as she skipped up the front steps past them, there was a pause in the entourage—Enguina must be dismounting. Legolas gripped Aragorn's elbow. The man turned and clasped Legolas's arm.

" _Everything is going to be perfect. I promise_."

" _How can you promise that?"_ he whispered back hoarsely.

" _Because Ilúvatar is good. Breathe…and wait._ "

Legolas lifted his head to see Erumar come around the corner, her purplish dress flowing about her feet in typical Elvish fashion. Her dark hair was down and flowing, the bouquet in her hands as stunning as she was. She followed Annî up the steps and Gimli bowed low to her.

"My Lady Erumar," he said, extending his arm, and she smiled at him, tears in her eyes as she rested her hand on his arm. She met Legolas's eyes once as Gimli walked her to the aisle in the church and Legolas could nearly read them— _wait…be patient…the best is yet to come._

Arwen, every bit as stunning as Erumar, came next, the crowd's exclamations pronounced over and over again. She wore a circlet of silver adorned with the same wings as the King, and when she took his arm there were tears in her eyes as well as she looked to Legolas. Her eyes said the same to him, and as Aragorn released his arm, he stood at the top of those stone steps, completely alone—waiting for her to come to him.

And she came. Around the throng of people, Legolas first saw Lómë, walking slowly, gardenias braided into his mane, his black coat shining in the spring light. And who was leading him but his _father_ , wearing a golden tunic, the crown of golden leaves and berries adorning his head from the Woodland Realm and in his hand was Enguina's hand as he led her to him…to _give_ her to him… _to bless the start of their lives together_. Nothing could have been more perfectly wonderful. Hildanir stepped forward to take Lómë's reins, and then Enguina raised her eyes to his.

Every thought of any anxiety or imperfect thought fled from his mind. Stunning was too small a word, beauty was too small a word… _were_ there words to describe what he felt in that moment? His chest was too small for his heart; he breathed, but he did not know it. This moment, _this moment_ , he had waited for all this time, all his life. She was the one he was meant to be with. Every road had led them both to one another; this was Ilúvatar…there was no other way to describe it. She was the most magnificent creature that walked in Middle-Earth—if he lived forever it would never be enough time to take in the beauty of her. O, how he wanted to run his fingers through her hair! O, to touch her face! But he stood still, watching as her foot touched the lowest step, as she held the dress and Thranduil held her. Her green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she could not look away. The dress flowed down behind her into a train that coursed the steps, sheer white and glittering in the sunlight, and flowers in her golden hair.

Then she was before him, and Thranduil looked into his face. Legolas could barely take his eyes from Enguina, but he did long enough to look into the eyes of his father. Thranduil looked down, over to Enguina and carefully took her hand from his arm, extending it to Legolas even as her fingers trembled with the force of her love.

"My son," he whispered, and he waited until Legolas had extended a hand before he laid Enguina's in it, enclosing their hands within his own. "Here is your wife." Enguina's eyes closed at his words and Thranduil released their hands, but reached over to brush his fingertips to Enguina's chin and press his lips gently to her cheek.

"My daughter," he whispered, his hand still on her back, "here is your husband." He drew back to let them turn together to face the center aisle—the last walk they would take without being joined to one another. Both of them looked at him once before meeting each other's eyes again, and then Legolas's hand tightened on hers and they were headed towards the altar to embrace eternity.

* * *

When Legolas and Enguina walked out the door of the church to the shouts of a joyous throng and the ringing of the loud bells of the steeple, it was as if the world had been reborn, as if _they_ had been. He took his fingers beneath her chin and tipped her head towards him, watched her eyes flutter closed, and kissed her there—for _everyone_ to see. Again, jubilant shouts of rejoicing were heard, and Legolas felt that the words joined the echo of his heart.

Enguina's crown of flowers had been replaced by a circlet of gold similar to his; she was _his_ princess now, and everything about it would suit her. The kiss broke apart, and he rested his brow to hers for one moment before they would descend the steps.

"We are no longer two," he whispered, loving her openly with his gaze. "We are one."

" _Oh, Legolas…_ " she whispered back, and he kissed her once more before turning and taking her down the steps with him, bits of whatever-it-was floating down around them as the crowd tossed flowers into their path and showered them with adoration and affection. Enguina had never felt so blessed; she could barely think straight as her hand was placed on Lómë's neck. She was mounted before she even knew what was happening, her dress flowing down over his flanks again, this time, Arwen held Lómë's reins. She did not speak, and even if Enguina had wanted to speak to her, she would not have been able to either.

And then there was Legolas, sitting beside her on Brethil, his mane braided with morning glories to match her bouquet, and Enguina wished that there was a way to freeze this moment in time so that she might remember the beauty of it always as her _husband_ reached over to take her hand and clasp it within his own. Brethil and Lómë began to walk, closely side by side, Aragorn and Arwen holding hands and leading them along, Gimli and Erumar following directly behind them.

Enguina turned her head and looked into his face, not needing to pay attention to a single thing at the moment but him. Everything else seemed to fade away and she only saw his eyes, his face, and he reached up with his other hand and cupped her cheek.

" _Husband_ ," she whispered, closing her eyes at the feel of his hand. "I love the sound of it."

"I love the sound of it on your lips," he replied honestly. Then he continued, "You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen," he told her. "There is _nothing_ that could turn my eyes from you today. I cannot stop looking upon you with those flowers in your hair, the way you shimmer and shine. Ilúvatar has given me the most beautiful of his creatures."

"I love you," she said, her eyes filling again for the millionth time. "This is the happiest day of my life…to be sharing this with you, to be your wife…I can barely _think_ …" She was embarrassed as her words stuttered out and he began to close the distance between them.

"Do not think, simply kiss me," he told her and there were many calls and much clapping as he kissed her again. When he leaned back, he smiled at the smile on her face. "And do not stop smiling."

They were on their way back to the seventh level for the beginnings of the wedding meal…and then onward to the dancing and the feasting that were to take place on the sixth and fifth levels; but there was celebrating to be going on everywhere. There were tables lining the seventh level with enough food, wine, and ale to make the tables nearly buckle beneath the weight. The streets were decked out with so many flowers that _everywhere_ appeared as the gardens and it was hard for Enguina to imagine being married in a place any more beautiful than Minas Tirith. She stared at the stone walls and wondered how she had ever thought the place anything less than absolutely exquisite, and forevermore she would feel that way. She never thought she would be riding on the day of her wedding or being led on horseback by Arwen…but these were new traditions! Everything, no matter what they did today, would be perfect.

When they arrived at the Tower, guards took their horses as the party helped them to dismount. After much joy and hugs and tears, they were escorted into the feasting hall where the main party would be gathered. Enguina was tugged aside for a moment then to pin up the dress so she would be able to move more easily, much to Legolas's delight. He studied her as Arwen and Erumar helped pin it up, laughing gaily the entire time. He smiled and felt Éomer's hand fall onto his shoulder.

"Legolas, is that plotting I see in your eyes already?" he laughed as he hugged the elf in celebration. Legolas held him back as his eyes sparkled.

"Éomer, I do not know what you speak of." The man clapped him on the shoulder and sighed with happiness.

"May Ilúvatar bless your bond forever," he stated. "May you never, _ever_ grow weary of one another. You are perfect for each other—may it ever be so."

"Thank you, my friend." Éomer stepped back and Annî ran headlong into the elf's legs.

"Legless!" she cried and he scooped her up into his arms.

"You were the perfect flower angel this morning," he said, and she rubbed her nose against his, her newest form of a kiss. "And where are your mother and father?" She pointed at them; they were engaged in conversation with several of the council members and Legolas smiled, setting her down. "Go rescue them, Annî." He set her loose and she ran for them. Gimli stepped up beside him.

"Well, I must say, laddie," he said, looking at the crowd that was slowly gathering. "You're going to have a few hands to shake tonight. Hope you're ready for all this merry-making!"

"I am," he found himself replying honestly. He suddenly turned toward the dwarf and gripped his shoulders. "I can face the world! I am _married_ , Gimli!" He shouted the last words, and everyone within earshot laughed at him. He was _not_ embarrassed.

The dwarf laughed and then set his hands on the elf's arms. "And a happier friend you couldn't have. Where's your bride?"

"Here," answered Enguina, stepping back to Legolas's side. He immediately set his arm around her waist; he could not prevent himself, could not keep himself away. "Arwen and Erumar are finally finished with me, but the dress is up and out of the way, and that is all that matters."

"Get ready for the endless stream of guests and well-wishers to greet," Gimli muttered and Enguina laughed.

"We are _married_ and thrilled that these people want to share our joy, even if we do not know any of their names."

"I would shout it from every rooftop in Minas Tirith," Legolas said, rejoicing. "I hope by the end of the night we greet every person who would wish us joy!"

At that moment, Thranduil walked slowly over to them, clearly in no rush at all. Enguina wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him but she restrained herself. Legolas reached out and Thranduil clasped his hands. Gimli chuckled.

"Ya know, you gave us quite a scare, Thranduil!" he shouted over the general din of people in the chamber. "We were worried you hadn't made it!"

"No, no…would not have ever missed it," he replied, holding his son's arm. "May Ilúvatar bless you both."

"He already has, most richly," Legolas replied. "Thank you, from the depths of both of our hearts. We cannot thank you enough."

"The pleasure, I assure you, was mine," he replied, leaning over to kiss Enguina's cheek one more time. "Forgive me, it appears I needed to kiss you one more time before I am never allowed to do it again. Legolas is very jealous, you know, and you are much too beautiful today."

She blushed but smiled at him. "You are too honest, Thranduil."

"Oh, a fault that runs deeply within our family, I assure you," he stated. "Now, where is the lovely Erumar? I told her I would be her escort this afternoon whether she liked it or not, so I must find her."

Legolas laughed. "She is just behind us with Aragorn and Arwen."

"Good," he said, "that saves me the trouble of finding her. We will meet you both at the table in an hour or so?"

Enguina shook her head at him, laughing. "Yes, Thranduil," she said. "We will meet you there."

* * *

It was, to be honest, nearly two hours before everyone had been greeted and the happy couple made their way to the head of the table. Honored by so many friends and citizens who cared for them, it could not have been helped; instead, they took their seats and waited for the noise to die down a little bit. With their family and most excellent friends seated beside them, everything was exactly perfect. Legolas took her hand and the two of them stood as everyone else was seated.

"Dearest friends, honored guests," Legolas said in his clear voice, "it is a blessing and an honor to have the privilege of sharing our unfathomable joy with you. Enguina and I want to welcome you to the celebration of our wedding. We would ask that you would enjoy yourself immeasurably. We can only wish you as much joy as we have found in one another. May Ilúvatar bless you as you have blessed our lives today…and always."

"We want to thank our family and our close friends who have encouraged us in every way possible to make this a dream come true for us both," Enguina said, and both she and Legolas eyed Aragorn and Arwen and then Gimli, Erumar, Thranduil, the list continued. "Without your love, your support, your guidance…we would not be standing here beside each other today. There are…there are…" She suddenly found herself completely unable to speak, and Legolas squeezed her hand.

"There are," he continued, "no words that could ever say what we truly mean, the depth of the gratitude we feel. Again, we can only hope in the knowledge that Ilúvatar will bless you as richly as he has blessed us."

Legolas guided Enguina to her seat but before he sat, he held up a hand. "Now, I know we all want the wedding feast to begin, but I have been told that it is _customary_ for those who would like to say a few words upon our behalf to say those words. We welcome them with joy and gratitude. Thank you, again, for sharing in this day with us, and please, whoever may desire to speak, speak."

Gimli stood up almost immediately. Even though it was probably customary for Aragorn to do so, he would be giving the blessing, and this had been discussed previous to this moment. He bowed to the crowd gathered and then turned to the bride and groom.

"Well, you must've expected to hear something from me, though probably not this!" He laughed, and then explained to those gathered, "I've known the lad for several years now, and though it's not as long as some of you, it is more than a lot of you. Most of you know of the past and bitter hatred that the elves and the dwarves had for one another, and though we have not always been friends, Legolas and I have become so. So allow me to extend my wishes for your every happiness as you go to make a home within Ithilien. But in celebration of the elf, I wrote this bit of verse to both encourage and embarrass you," he said as Legolas laughed. Enguina squeezed his hand. "But for some thing or another, you probably deserve it!"

"Go ahead, friend Gimli!" he laughed; nothing could dampen his spirits today, not even the threat of embarrassment. Gimli cleared his throat and recited loudly:

 _Oh fair-haired lad of green forest dark,_

 _Your life we celebrate_

 _This thoughtful discourse shall impart_

 _All that we wish to articulate_

 _The long gold braids of your hair so fair,_

 _Oh, did we mention it already?_

 _Let us speak of it again, so rare!_

 _And therein lies its beauty!_

 _Your ears so sharp and pointy are_

 _Alas they stick so high_

 _We can't find a feature more_

 _Resembling your quick eye_

 _Quick, but also soft are those_

 _The eyes that yonder maiden's supposed_

 _To love and adore like a rare blue rose_

 _Gently with devotion they close_

 _The hands, they are with patience bless'd_

 _Strong, yet kind, they do convey_

 _A thankful heart and thoughtfulness_

 _For every soul which comes their way_

 _To have a friend, there is no equal_

 _In manner of wit or wisdom_

 _You may know all manner of people_

 _But this one, you shall keep him_

 _Oh fair-haired lad of green forest dark_

 _This night will your life commence_

 _Charged to cherish this precious lark_

 _From now, and this day hence!_

The crowd in the hall roared with applause and laughter for the dwarf, and he gave a little bow to them. Legolas stood and hugged him hard, thanking him as he laughed. The dwarf's friendship meant the world to him, and hearing him speak so kindly was a blessing. When everyone was finally seated from the standing ovation they had given the dwarf, Arwen remained standing nearby.

"My dearest friends," she said and the room instantly hushed to hear her melodic voice, "I have known both of you for countless years, seen your struggles and your joys, and have desired nothing but your happiness since I have known you. The love I see that you share is more precious than anything found in this world. Given to you, placed in your hearts by Ilúvatar, may you always share it, feel it. You are one now as you have never been before. Marriage is the greatest blessing a heart can ask for; you will build one another up, bear one another's sorrows, and celebrate one another's joys. We rejoice to share in the joy you have found in one another.

"Over these past few weeks, I have been collecting bits of words and…advice so to speak, for your married life. I have pieced them together into a lyric of sorts. I hope you will take something from them and carry it with you. It is speaking of love, and doing love, that we learn more about what it _means_ to love. May your words and actions always speak of your love for one another."

 _Some advice we now shall lend_

 _Hear these words, my dearest friends:_

" _A touch of love never hurt one,_

 _So give it as often as able."_

" _Blessed are you to find the one_

 _that once was your heart's fable."_

" _Your spouse is there for you to love,_

 _To lean on when all things get rough_

 _But do not ever be forgetful of_

 _The strength that flows from up above."_

" _Be a close friend but even more_

 _be the one who listens for_

 _what they try not to show_

 _there, you find the heart to know."_

" _Laughter is the most vital part_

 _ability to smile at all the flaws_

 _only be sure they were his fault_

 _and you will turn all his 'ha's'"_

" _Children, pray there be scores_

 _and love enough for all of them;_

 _but bear in mind, rain can pour_

 _those children are your burden."_

" _Women are two-hearted beasts_

 _though loving, also cross_

 _be careful which heart feasts_

 _hope love, but anger loss!"_

" _Be careful of the hungry man,_

 _lest you forget about the food!_

 _There has to be something in the pan_

 _but it's all right if it is not good!"_

" _A little time with friends never hurt_

 _he is not going out to flirt_

 _he does want to be with you_

 _be fair so he can also choose."_

" _Tell of your love every night_

 _make song and story well_

 _hugs and kisses gentle and light_

 _the simple things are what will tell!"_

" _And if thought ever comes to part_

 _know, no matter the rift_

 _the love in both the mind and heart_

 _becomes the greatest gift."_

 _Here end these few quotes of direction_

 _May they grant you insight and reflection._

The lyric had been beautiful and both Legolas and Enguina stood to hug Arwen. There was much clapping as well when Arwen was finished, and the newlyweds thanked her for her composition. There was no doubt that the words of their friends put together in such a manner had touched their hearts and they were delighted at such a speech. In another moment, Aragorn stood.

"Let us give the blessing for this food and this wonderful man and woman that have been bound to each other in the light of Ilúvatar's eyes," he said, and all present bowed their heads. He saw Enguina and Legolas take one another's hands, and he smiled. "Dear Father, today you have brought us here to witness the great love that you have placed in two of your servants, Legolas and Enguina. You have brought them together against all the evil that this world can force into their path, against all odds; you have brought them together against pain, darkness, even suffering and brought them together in your holy light to overcome it. Father, your love has given us eyes to see, ears to hear, and a peace that is greater than anything we could ever offer them. Protect them, watch over them as they grow ever closer to each other and to you, bless their hearts and bind them together and show them that they can continue to trust in you for their every need.

"Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies that we might continue to use them for you. May we bless this new pair with our words and actions tonight as we celebrate their love. Reach out and touch our hearts with the light of your grace and help us to honor you. It is in your name we offer up our thanksgiving, Amen."

All present echoed his thoughts of prayer, and then all began to eat and fellowship.

* * *

The sun was setting over Minas Tirith and the party was continuing on the fifth and sixth levels. Legolas was astounded by the amount of food…and the number of people someone had found to keep it stocked. The kitchens in Ecthelion and a thousand other places must have been teeming with people. He had no idea who to thank for that! He just kept staring around at the numbers of celebrating guests—dwarves, men, and elves teeming everywhere on the streets—and Legolas had to assume that the entire City had come to share their joy with them. The wedding feast had been exceptional, everyone had agreed, and there was nothing left but dancing and merry-making. In many ways, it was the most wonderful occasion he had ever been a part of.

Enguina kept blushing continuously; everyone kept complimenting them, and Legolas could not seem to stop smiling and thanking everyone. In fact, his face ached from all the smiling! He glanced over at her and found that she had her palms pressed to her cheeks. He shook his head at her and reached over, taking them down and kissing each finger a bit more rapidly than he would have liked. Going slow, however, was not an option—not with so many observers!

"What is it, my dove?" he asked her as she looked up into his face.

"If I hear one more compliment, I think my ears will burst and my cheeks start on fire."

"They cannot help it, you know," he admitted, laughing at her. "You are the most beautiful creature and they cannot stop looking at you. You can hardly blame them, Guin. You chose that dress and you wore it…and I have never felt as if one of the stars in the sky had come down to light the night on the streets of Minas Tirith." His eyes shone with his love and her eyes closed as she listened to his words, his fingers brushing her cheek. "That is what they are thinking when they look at you."

"No, that is what _you_ are thinking," she whispered, and then she looked out towards the street where there were many other couples dancing. "Perhaps we should dance again, and then I can stop listening to words…including yours."

He laughed. "Forgive me…I cannot stop thinking about how radiant you are. It is not only the dress; your hair and the flowers—"

"Erumar," she said, giving her credit. "It _is_ beautiful. It took her _forever_."

"It was worth it," he said honestly. "Will you dance with me? We can avoid greeting another hundred people that way…"

"I can get lost staring into your eyes then," she sighed.

"I would enjoy that very much," he replied, leaning over to kiss her gently.

"You know, that draws attention as well."

"Sweet heart," he murmured, "there is nothing you could do that would not draw attention to yourself. They are here for us; they are going to stare and chatter. _Let_ them. Dance with me." He drew her out by the hand onto the floor and she followed him easily. She was an excellent dancer, though she did not know the dance—it was not elvish. Clearly, this was a dance Legolas had learned _after_ he had arrived in Minas Tirith, but she followed him easily enough.

As they touched hands against one another and turned about each other in a circle, Legolas thought of their first dance when they had arrived from the White Tower. Looking into her eyes and seeing everything he needed, wanted…nothing could have been more perfect. She had told him there were words to go with the song that had been played—Aragorn had written them a melody to dance to—but she could not sing the words for him. The dance had been romantic and tender, and there were few dry eyes when they had finished. They had danced several times since then, enjoying the opportunities when they arose.

Enguina was _completely_ lost in him. She had no idea how many turns had gone by or how many times the tune had changed, when she noticed him nod to her left.

"Look," he whispered, a look of astonishment on his face. "My father is standing up with Erumar." Enguina turned her head, intrigued to see them dancing there. They were a stunning pair; Thranduil with his perfect posture and flawless steps, Erumar following his every turn, the way her dress spun out a sight to behold. Thranduil was saying something to her, and she was laughing at his words, the smile on her face genuine. Enguina wanted to sigh, but she held back.

"She was always such a beautiful dancer."

"I…I cannot tell you how long it has been since my father danced," he mumbled, incredulous. "Dancing was a frivolity he could not enjoy for years untold."

"Yes..." she said, smiling. "I know you said that he is very serious, but he seems more alive here than ever. Perhaps it _is_ being out of the Greenwood, away from some of that responsibility. Perhaps it is something more."

"Perhaps she is drawing out the life in him," he said, his eyes still fixed on them.

Enguina kissed his chin, jarring his attention from them, and he looked down at her. "Does that worry you?" she asked and he shook his head. "Perhaps it is _he_ who is drawing out the life in _her_. He has found someone who can understand his grief; the two of them may lift each other up."

"That…is a _good_ thing," Legolas stated. "Only good can come of that, yes?"

" _I_ think so," she agreed softly, but she could tell he was unsure. "Legolas, they are not in love," she told him compassionately.

"I know," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Even if they were what should I have to say about it? I should be grateful for the change in my father. I was…so delighted when he gave you to me today."

She smiled. "It was his idea. He asked if he could give me away; I was pleasantly shocked."

"Gimli thought you had taken my father to spite me."

She burst out laughing. "No, I would _never_ do such a thing! Though I could not tell you as Thranduil wanted to keep it a secret."

"You know, I have not seen the best dwarf in some time," Legolas added, scanning the crowd, "nor the King and Queen. Where do you think they got off to?"

"Probably a private corner for a private celebration," she murmured. "It _is_ that sort of party." Legolas burst out laughing and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"My dear Guin," he chuckled, "there could be no corner private enough for _them_. Their love is so much more set apart. Now, if you were speaking of _Faramir_ perhaps—"

"God, did _he_ tell that tale too?" she asked, blushing. "I thought I would die of embarrassment when Éowyn told it, and she was not discomfited at all!"

Legolas chuckled again. "Perhaps we will not be either after five years of marriage."

She shook her head. "You are _so_ into public displays."

"Mmmm…" She could tell in the way he murmured that he wanted to kiss her very badly, and she lifted her chin just enough for him to do so. The brush of his lips sent a tingle to her toes. This night was drawing to a long, beautiful close. Soon she would be in his arms with nothing between them; she felt the force of that thought flow through her veins, and in those few moments was completely unafraid.

"I felt that," he whispered into her lips, brushing his nose against hers. "Did you?"

He felt her take her lip between her teeth and she slipped back from him a little bit. "We will _not_ be finding our own private corner," she whispered. Enguina had meant for him to laugh, and she thought for a moment he was going to. Instead, he shook his head, touching his forehead to hers.

"No," he said very, very seriously, "I have thought about this for a very long time…spent a month dreaming about it, Guin. That would not be the way I would love you."

 _Ilúvatar_. Her knees weakened. She desired him so much in that moment that she would have left the celebration right then, skipped the rest of it and left without so much as a word to anyone. Enguina thought perhaps he knew what she was feeling—or else she was murmuring his name in her brain again—because he drew back slowly and led her slowly to the side of the street. She did not know where they were going, and she could not have cared; he was still touching her and that was all that mattered for the moment. Though, her longing-addled brain wanted much more than his hand in hers.

They were lost in another crowd of well-wishers in seconds as Legolas tried to make his way to the wine to get her a drink. They laughed along for a few moments and found they were not going to be able to move anywhere in that direction and shortly gave up for quite some time. Now requiring more focus, Enguina's mind withdrew from her desire-induced haze and she forgot the momentary discomfort she felt at being halted and hand-held by someone other than Legolas.

"Turtle-doves, these are for you." Both of them turned to find Éomer standing before them, extending a glass of wine and a half-pint of ale. Legolas beamed at the man and slipped the wine into Enguina's hand.

"How in the world did you know?"

"You have not been yet, and I thought you were making your way there. Happy to assist the happy couple." He winked at Legolas, and the gesture surprised the elf. "If I were you, I would be plotting a _very_ hasty escape _very_ soon. When that sun is finished setting, you should be long gone. As it is, it is going to take you an hour or more to get out of here once you _decide_ to leave."

"Plotting in the works," Legolas admitted, taking a drink.

"If that is the case," Enguina said, "Éomer would you do me another favor?"

"Anything for the lovely bride."

"Can you please find Arwen? I need her."

"Certainly. I passed them about twenty minutes ago. I should be able to find them easily enough," he laughed and Enguina thought he was teasing her as he moved away. She felt Legolas squeeze her hand and she looked back at him.

"Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes," she said, "but there is something that…well, before we leave…" She shook her head, smiling, "I cannot explain, but you will understand." She sipped the wine and closed her eyes. "That is _delicious_."

"This is probably the best ale I have ever had," Legolas admitted, "and that is saying something."

"Legolas," she murmured, getting closer to him so that only he could hear her, " _is_ it appropriate for us to leave so soon? Sunset is barely over, but we cannot stay until the _celebration_ is over—"

"No, no," Legolas agreed, his eyes wide, "certainly not. They will be at this until daybreak, and I have other plans. No, Éomer is right; we will make our escape with the onset of night and that will be that. Nearly ten hours of celebrating is enough for this elf."

"I… _would_ prefer something more private at this point," she admitted shyly. His hand found her cheek and he cupped her face as she closed her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, _moina quen_."

"Éomer sent us to you," Aragorn said as they interrupted them. "Growing tired of this celebration? Your number of admirers? A bit of peace is all anyone would ask for."

"They made their own," Arwen said gently, and Legolas smiled at her.

"Enguina was asking for you," he said, and she looked at her friend.

"Is it that time?"

"I hope so," Enguina stated. "I will not have the courage or the patience if I wait any longer."

"Let us collect Erumar, though I hate to interrupt them."

"We need Thranduil anyway." Aragorn released Arwen's arm and she squeezed it gently.

"Stay here with Legolas for a moment?"

"Of course," he replied, and Arwen moved to pull Enguina with her but she was trapped against Legolas's side.

"You are telling me that I must let go of my bride? Be without her for more than half a moment?" He appeared horrified and Aragorn gave him a look of longsuffering.

"You know, I danced with her earlier," he pointed out. "As did Gimli, Éomer, Thranduil, Faramir—"

"I get it," Legolas moaned, "the list was endless. Fine, just for a few moments."

"Do not go far," Enguina said to him, slipping a hand behind his neck and tugging his face down so she could kiss him. She stole out of his arms and followed Arwen.

"How could I?" Legolas muttered, watching her walk away.

"You were dancing so beautifully before," Aragorn said to him softly. "You have had many admirers tonight."

"This celebration has been… _wonderful_ ," Legolas said, his eyes shining. He finally drew his gaze from Enguina and looked at the man. "I have never enjoyed one so much aside from your wedding. There is nothing like a wedding in Minas Tirith…nothing is celebrated insignificantly here."

"This is something to be celebrated hugely," Aragorn said. Legolas smiled at him.

"I thought you were going to say more than the blessing earlier when you spoke."

"My words are for you and Enguina alone," he replied softly, setting a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You can give them to Enguina tomorrow if you choose. I will second Arwen's words first, that marriage is a blessing, a gift; you have already shared one another's sorrows…now it is time to share in the joy of one another." Legolas swallowed and Aragorn looked at him seriously. " _Enjoy_ this night, Legolas…remember every moment of it. There will never be another first time."

"I will remember your words," he said in the same soft voice as Aragorn had used, speaking of the advice Aragorn had given to him. "Thank you for everything you have done…both you _and_ Arwen. Enguina and I meant to say it better earlier when speaking but…are there such words for the guidance you have both given? For coming to our rescue, for healing our hurts, for bringing us together? Ilúvatar's grace rests upon us both tonight, and I believe with all my heart that everything will be as perfect as he plans it to be."

Aragorn smiled at him, but his voice was solemn when he continued. "You will be in our thoughts all night. Arwen and I have prayed for you already in a moment of quiet we took together this morning. May Ilúvatar bless your union, Legolas," he said, "and may he make it as loving as both of you deserve."

"Thank you." There was nothing more he could say than that. Aragorn and Arwen had prayed for them—everything was going to be fine.

Behind them, there was a clearing of the street where the dancing had been and the crowd parted for the two of them to come to the front of it to see what was happening. Thranduil stood beside the minstrels who had been playing, and they waited as Arwen, Enguina, and Erumar took to the floor together. They stood in a line facing the crowd, one beside the other, anxious little smiles on their faces.

"They are going to _dance_?" asked Legolas, stunned. This was completely unexpected; in fact, he was quite blown away. He had never seen Enguina dance by herself this way, and could never have imagined she would perform for him in front of this many people. He had been asking her to sing for months in their small group at the House and she would not acquiesce. It _had_ been her idea; he knew that as she had wanted to speak to Arwen about it. He could not believe it…but he was going to completely enjoy it.

It was a dance of joy, of _jubilation_ ; at least that was what Enguina had shyly announced it as. The three of them had designed part of the dance when they were far younger in Lórien in worship of the One, to celebrate the spring, rebirth, Ilúvatar's gift of life out of winter. She had looked directly into Legolas's eyes then and said that was what she wanted to show him, that he had taken her life from the chill of winter and darkness into the rebirth of spring and _light_. The music was perfect; Arwen had sung for the musicians days ago and taught them the tune, helped them to figure out melodies and harmonies to add here and there to make it what it was. Each person who stood within that crowded circle of onlookers was bewitched as the three of them danced, first to a solitary flute: the beginning, the winter—the quiet, the dark of the night of her life—which brightened into glorious day with the added sounds of fiddle and bass, the beauty of spring and sun and the birth of her love for him.

When the song was done, there was such a response on the sixth level that none had ever seen; folk would be speaking of the elvish maidens' dance for years to come. They had never seen anything of the like, and would never see anything like it henceforth. From the subtle moves of the winter to the leaping and spinning of spring, the people of Minas Tirith had never seen anything so compelling. Legolas was so moved, was so under her spell, that he could not speak when she came to him; she simply slipped into his arms and laid her head against his chest, completely breathless.

"That," Aragorn whispered to Arwen, touching her face when she came to stand beside him, "was the most beautiful expression of love. It spoke more than any number of words ever could. What a perfect gift."

" _Thank you_ ," Legolas whispered into her hair, and he raised his eyes to Arwen, his eyes more thankful than words could ever have expressed. "Tell Erumar for me."

She bowed her head to him, and then she raised her face to Aragorn, a breathless smile on her face. "Dance with me, my Lord." She felt the fire in herself to dance with him, for him and he could see it burning in her face. Aragorn knew if they danced now it would be some time before they stopped; he could have never wanted anything more in that moment—to be moved by her, to move with her, to feel her dancing beside him, with him, to watch her as she spun—than to dance with her.

"In the morning," Legolas said, and Aragorn nodded, allowing Arwen to laugh once and grip his hand to pull him forward and onto the floor with her. He felt Enguina's hands tighten on his back.

"She is the best friend I could never have even hoped for," she whispered, watching as the two of them began to dance. "So beautiful."

"They both are," he agreed in her quiet tone. "Come…" he whispered as he collected her hands, brought them to his lips, and kissed them. "Our time here is done." She heard the words clearly in her head. _I want to be alone with you._ Her legs trembled and she kissed his hands as well, repeating the words back to him in her head. The exchange of words was too much for them both as their eyes closed and they rested their foreheads against one another to catch their breath, a jumble of tightly-bound feelings fired like lightning between them before Legolas had enough sense to draw back from her mentally.

They stood there for a few minutes just like that before Legolas began to walk, drawing her with him slowly. She had not thought her legs would function; she felt close to collapse, dizzy, so full of love that she felt she might burst if she held it in much longer. Legolas led her on through the crowd, never once releasing her hand.


	53. Chapter 53

It took them longer than Enguina ever would have thought to reach the front door of the guesthouse that had now become their home—more official than ever as Legolas had moved all of his things in there a few mornings ago. The hand in hers was gentle, guiding her towards the steps, to the beginning of their married life together. She was not nervous, not anxious; she knew who held her hand. The man who cared for and loved her more than anything else, more than anyone else ever had, ever would. There was nothing to keep them apart now. Ilúvatar had joined them as husband and wife, and no amount of nightmares, scars, or memories were going to keep them apart. Her heart flooded with love, with the memory of his mind touching hers, and she nearly stumbled. She wanted to be his…utterly his and his alone. Legolas held her hand, but did not ask—he must have known what she was thinking.

When he walked her up those steps he reached for the door, opening it wide and smiling down into her face. "Welcome home, love." It _was_ their home and they entered it together, Legolas allowing the door to close behind them. It was dark in the kitchen, and for not even half-a-moment, they stood there in the silence.

"Finally…some quiet," he teased gently. "I thought we would never be alone." There was a smile on his lips, but his words were serious.

 _What_ to do? _How_ to begin? And in that very awkward moment in her head, every one of her insecurities came flooding back on her like a great weight. They did not upset her, they _confused_ her, the butterflies in her stomach growing a hundred-fold. _Now_ the anxiety crushed her; _yes_ , she wanted him, desired him, but she _was_ afraid for him to touch her intimately, to _know_ her intimately. Arwen had said he was afraid too. Was he? Was he really? She felt his arm wrap around her back and she looked up into his eyes. She knew immediately one of them had begun shaking—obviously her. He settled his other hand on her stomach and smiled at her.

"I love you," she heard herself say, as she focused on his blue eyes.

"It is all right," he said, lifting the hand from her stomach to her face as he brushed her jaw with his thumb. "I am frightened, too."

The words she needed to hear. How could he always know just what to say? Her jaw trembled against his thumb and he lowered his forehead to hers, touching noses with her, his fingertips brushing the skin of her neck. Their lips met. Everything felt _different_ ; her body came alive in a way that terrified her. He did nothing differently than he had ever done before, but now she was his wife, and he her husband and she could…she could _touch_ _him_ … His lips left hers and he rested his brow against hers, her hands lying against his chest.

"I wrote you something," she managed to get out.

"You wrote me something?" he whispered, surprised. "You need not have. That dance was enough to fill my dreams for years. I will…" He suddenly found himself unable to speak. She reached up and stroked his face from temple to chin; it gave him words. "My heart was so moved by your love for me. I will never forget the sight of you dancing there. Now I understand what Aragorn meant when he saw Arwen for the first time in Rivendell between the birches, dancing there and singing; I never understood before…I always thought him a bit mad. Watching you dance tonight was a form of worship. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." His thumb rubbed her chin again gently. "How I love you, Guin."

"I am glad that you liked it," she whispered back.

"You do not believe me," he stated, seeing the look in her eyes. "It truly was the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen. I am completely serious—"

"I believe you," she insisted, looking away from his eyes. "I am simply embarrassed."

He was quiet a moment, then, "What did you write me?"

"I wrote you…a poem of sorts," she answered, and then she suddenly lost her nerve. "It is not very good, and I-I…" She found her eyes brimming with tears. "I do not know if I even remember the words now…" She began to really tremble then and he pressed her face to his chest for a moment, kissing her hair. She needed a minute of peace alone; he did not have to ask her to know that.

"Come and sit down for a moment," he said, "you have been standing for hours." He sat her down on a kitchen chair, lowering her into it, still holding her hands. "Collect your thoughts, and then share it with me." She looked up at him, her fingers trembling in his grasp.

"Are you…are you _really_ …"

" _Yes_ ," he laughed softly, and she knew it was not at her. He knelt down before her, pressing his lips to her hands. "Yes, I am terrified…but I want to love you so much that I am pushing my fear away. Ilúvatar will take care of it; I keep giving it to him." He swallowed. "What is most on my mind is pleasing you, touching you, _learning_ you… _and_ giving myself to you. It is going to be beautiful." He kissed her hands again. "Sit here a moment," he said gently, as he knew she could not speak. "There is something I need to do, and you need to collect your thoughts to recite me that poem."

"Oh, Legolas..." she whispered when he kissed her hands again and released them.

"Do not go away."

How could she? She was frozen in that moment, unable to think of anything but him, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. If she had not been so still, so nervous, she may have realized the door was right there and she could have made a run for it. She barely had time to think of anything before he was back at her side, kneeling before her again; she saw his feet were bare.

"Share your _linnod_ with me, my love." His hands were stroking hers. "Please."

Looking to him as he leaned over and kissed along her ring finger to her rings, those that bound her to him, she found her courage as she felt her love for him flow through her.

 _I see the love you have, you hold, for me inside your eyes,_

 _I feel the warmth, the love, the care when held within your gaze,_

 _Though when I venture from your side, my heart doth yearn, it cries,_

 _But when I see your face again, you lift from it the haze._

 _Oh when I look upon this face, your smile, how it charms,_

 _And all the passion that I feel in every tender kiss,_

 _I cherish every moment that you wrap me in your arms,_

 _How every time you hold me makes me feel the endless bliss._

 _I feel my love for you shout from my soul when our lips meet,_

 _My heart does race and it begins to thrive and live again,_

 _That when I kiss those gentle lips my soul is now complete,_

 _I feel the bonding of our love and know it will not end._

 _Oh what I feel for you, my love, shall last eternity,_

 _And what we share between our souls brings tears upon my cheek,_

 _And how your hand now wipes away the tears that form, that be,_

 _How that same hand whence brush my neck sends quivers, makes me weak._

 _I see my life, my love, my heart whenever you are near,_

 _Reflections of eternity, devotion and of love,_

 _You chase away the very things that ever I did fear,_

 _And you show me that you were sent to me from up above._

 _My love for you flows deeper than a river ever may,_

 _My love for you, it shall remain forever and a day!_

"Oh, my love," he said, pressing his lips again and again to her trembling fingers.

"Legolas," she whispered, "you are from Ilúvatar himself, sent to me, given to me to love, to draw me out of the pit of darkness and save me, bring me life. That…that dance tonight was my worship to Him, but my love for you."

He released her hands and she was suddenly too far from his lips. She slipped from the chair, dropping to her knees before him as his hands cupped her face, closing the distance between them. He whispered that he loved her, and then he said it again as her arms moved around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. His arms wound their way around her body, bringing her more tightly to him. One hand stayed firmly holding her, the other began tracing her back. She felt such desire from him, but she found herself unafraid of it. This was Legolas; he cherished her.

 _Legolas...!_

 _Guin…Guin…_

Alone now, they opened their minds, sharing a hundred things in only a few moments. The feel of her, the way he felt, the way her lips touched him, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, the way he held her tightly, the feel of him, and their feelings of security, peace, love, desire, and _passion_. Both were breathless as they held one another, clutching their hands and tightening the embrace so much that she nearly felt a part of his chest. The moment broke and they gasped for air, resting their foreheads against each other and trembling with the force of feeling aflame.

"That," Legolas whispered, "is going to take practice."

" _Ah_ …" Enguina gasped, clearly struggling to center herself more than he was. She could barely grab the pieces of her mind and put them back together. She rested her hand against his chest now, her fingers tightening on his tunic. She felt his heart racing. " _Legolas_ …" His arms were around her still, his fingers tumbling over every button up the back of her wedding dress. When he found her bare skin and her spine, drawing up her neck to her hair, she gasped again. " _Legolas, Legolas…_ "

"Come with me," he told her gently, and she nodded, her knees weak. He did not ask her, instead, he said, "Let me do this properly."

Legolas scooped her from the floor, carrying her carefully in his arms back to her candlelit bedroom. She stared around at the firelight as he gently set her on her feet in the middle of the room. She kept her arms around his neck, the feel of him still in her mind. He held her back loosely, one hand raised to stroke along her face, her cheek, her ears, her throat—her eyes closed. "Look at me," his voice whispered, and she opened her eyes. "I want you to see me."

She knew what that meant in so many ways and she felt tears fill her eyes as she pressed herself to him, his hands wrapping more tightly around her back, her hands once more winding into his hair, letting him feel her desire this time, pouring it into him through their bond. " _I see you_ ," she whispered. She did not feel him in her, but he surely felt her as his hands wandered freely now, no reason to stop them. He felt her ribs, her hips, the sides of her thighs, and traveled back up to her shoulders.

"Let me—?" he asked, but could not get out the question when her mouth pressed to his. She knew what he was asking and she let her response be physical as she tightened her fingers around the back of his neck. His hands found their way into her hair, gently removing pins and flowers by feel as bit by bit it came down. When it lay freely flowing over her shoulders, he worked his fingers through it, combing it and massaging her scalp in a way that he never had before. Was she on _fire_? What was this she _felt_? He was kissing her jaw and then the side of her neck as her forehead rested near his shoulder. She trembled when he pressed his lips between her shoulder and her neck and felt his hands trace the buttons once again on her dress.

That anxiety came back to her and she opened her eyes even as she trembled again feeling his mouth on her skin. It was bright in the room, the candles throwing light, and she whispered into his ear, brushing her lips to his temple as she turned her head back to him. "Legolas…there is…it is too bright…"

"Just enough light," he whispered back, and she found herself pressed against him even more tightly, her hands running along the front of his tunic. How she wanted to touch him, but she was hesitant, even now. His lips found a spot behind her ear that made her breathless and he kissed it, brushing his lips against it again and again. She could not _breathe_ … "I want to see you," he murmured, his breath caressing her skin. "I want to see your body when I touch you…I want you to see _me_ …"

She _did_ want to see him; she wanted, more than anything, in that moment to take her trembling hands and open his tunic and look at him, touch him. His hands roamed along her back again, and she trembled against him, her knees feeling weak. Oh, what would it feel like when they were skin to skin? That thought made her nod, giving him permission, as he touched his lips behind her ear again.

He gently began undoing the buttons. Yes, it was a slow process, but it was because he _made_ it that way. By the time he had undone every button and brought his fingers against every vertebrae on her spine, she was nearly in a puddle at his feet. When his hands reached the small of her back, he came back up to her shoulders and began sliding the dress away from her. She moved her arms and let him take it down her body as she stepped out of it. Releasing her for only a moment, he turned away and laid the dress over the chair nearby, his hand still on her waist. When he turned back, he looked at her as she stood before him in the slip she wore.

"You have never worn anything more beautiful than that dress," he whispered, "but you have never been more beautiful than you are right now." She swallowed, the candlelight lighting his face as she closed the distance between them, her hands coming to rest on his chest as their lips pressed together. He caressed her trembling arms, drawing his hands from her wrists all the way to her shoulders and then to her neck. Taking her face in his hands, he tilted up her chin with his thumbs and released her lips so he could kiss along her throat to her collarbone. A sound came from her throat, a low moan, and he secretly _delighted_ in it. _He_ was bringing her pleasure…it was _his_ mouth on her flesh. He remembered the way her breath had caught that night when he had pressed his lips to her throat and he moved slowly towards that spot. He wanted this all about her.

The candles burned around them as he touched her, his hands moving along her smooth skin to stroke her back, to touch the silky material of the shift she wore. His mouth kept pressing to her skin and she was barely able to think, her arms tightening around his neck as he kissed her throat and collarbone and shoulders. His hands came around to her sides, fingertips on her ribs, and she shifted her weight slightly without knowing she was doing it, to allow him to go wherever he wanted. His thumbs brushed the lower skin of her breasts through the slip as he had that night on her dressing gown.

She moved then, swallowing hard as she trembled, lowering her hands to his chest. Fumbling on every button, but desiring then to touch him more than anything, she finally got them undone. His hands were somewhere near her legs now and she was barely breathing when she slipped her hands inside the front of his tunic, tracing the skin of his tense stomach. His hands shook on her when she touched him, and it fueled her. Her fingers searched his skin, _touching_ , _learning_ his back, his sides, his ribs, his body. This was what she had wanted to do since the night he had knelt before her on her bed, thinking he was dreaming. She tenderly took her hands along his chest, feeling him and she slipped her hands to the shoulders of his tunic and he brought his arms down from touching her, letting the tunic slide off to the floor. She moved to get it, but he was in her way, his hands back on her. She forgot about it and gave herself over to touching him.

Dragging her hands back down his arms, she felt every muscle, every cord and tendon, caressing from his arms to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back when Legolas's mouth found another spot on her neck, this time on the other side. Her fingers tightened against his back and she gasped as she felt, for the first time, his tongue against her skin. Her knees grew weak and she moaned again softly. Her hands found his chest, touching him again, and she felt his hands travel lower than her back. She pressed herself against his body, inch for inch; she could feel the heat of him against her skin, desiring him in that moment more than she could have ever described. Slipping away from his kisses, she lifted his chin and pressed her lips to _his_ throat, feeling his pulse pounding, unable to stop her hands from touching his chest.

"Your skin…" she whispered into his throat, feeling his hands dragging up from her hips, "feels so good beneath my hands." His thumbs pressed underneath her breasts again; he wanted to touch her as she was touching him. "Legolas…I have wanted to touch you for months." His lips found hers then and they kissed so many times she lost sense of time—until his hands found the straps of her shift and she stilled in his arms.

" _Guin_ ," he breathed, pressing his lips to her jaw, "let me touch you…" Heart racing, she trembled as she nodded.

" _Please_ ," she answered him, even though she _was_ afraid, " _touch me_ , _Legolas_."

The slip was pooling at her feet and his hands were on her naked back and the touch of her breasts to his chest made them both gasp at the sudden intimacy. He drew her to him, not tightly, but enough for her to wrap her arms around him and run her hands up to his shoulders. He stroked his hand from her shoulder down her back and slowly beneath her arm up her side. She was afraid to open her eyes; her skin _must_ be on fire.

"Do you…do you _feel_ this?" she groaned softly into his ear and she felt him swallow hard.

Did he _feel_ it? Ilúvatar in heaven, just the feel of her against his skin was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt in his entire life. His sole point of existence at the moment wasto love her, to rejoice in her, to touch her, to please her. Her arms joined behind his head and she kissed him again gently before he pulled back from her. Legolas pulled back just long enough to take a long look down her body, and she tipped his chin up with her thumb.

"You embarrass me," she murmured and he shook his head, laying his hand against her side and holding her away from him with that hand as he looked again and took her in before she trembled. " _Legolas_ , do not—"

"You are _so_ incredibly beautiful," he said, lifting his head to kiss her. He drew her against him, aligning their bodies and she gasped into his mouth, blushing as her knees grew weak. "Look at me, Guin," he whispered, bringing his hands up along her body to her ribs and she opened her eyes when his thumbs finally touched the skin of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and he whispered again to ask her to touch her. He began tracing her skin in circles, kissing her mouth as her hands tangled in his hair. But his hands on her were too much and the trembling increased ten-fold.

" _Legolas_ ," she gasped, "I cannot—" her breath caught and he seemed to understand, backing her up slowly as he set her down on the very edge of her— _their_ —bed. He knelt down before her, and, wrapping a hand gently around her back, began to touch her with his hands, pressing kisses to her chest over her pounding heart. His mouth soon replaced his hands against her breasts and she could not breathe, his fingers tracing down her leg to her foot and back, making long, loving strokes down her flesh.

She was still for a moment and then she found she was barely _able_ to stay still. She had never known bliss like this. She had thought kissing him was heaven, feeling his touch was heaven, but there was nothing like this! Nothing like the feel of his lips and his hands as she found her fingers uncontrollably tangled in his hair, her back arching into him, pressing herself closer to his touch, his mouth. His _mouth…his mouth…_! She was gasping for breath as she felt his arm around her back holding her even closer, but not tightly. Was there a way to get enough of him? She could not even think straight and she bit the inside of her lip. One of her hands fell back against the bed from his hair, catching her own body to prop herself upright, but it shook with the force of his passionate kisses against her skin. Breathing was difficult as he continued to move his hands along her lower body. He smiled and she felt it against her breast.

His mouth moved again and her back arched into him, her head falling back as her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. The fingers in his hair were partially gripping the back of his neck now, but she was not controlling them and she could not support herself anymore. Gently, his hands came up and took her beneath the shoulder blades as if he knew, dropping her back against the bed. He leaned against the bed nearly beside her on one arm and kissed her so many times she barely had time to catch her breath. His hands were roaming beneath her arm, stroking from her breast up beneath her arm to her wrist, pressing her hand onto the mattress. Then he came back, his hand stalling and circling her breast—she was practically writhing—and then lower to find other sensitive places on her stomach.

Her eyes were tightly closed, her hands roaming his back and chest again as he began to press his lips down the vein in her neck towards the center of her breasts, his hands now somewhere around her knees. She heard him whisper, reminding her to look at him, and her eyes fluttered open for a moment and she met his before he dragged his hand down her very long leg. She bent her knee so he would not have to reach so far and he lifted his mouth from her chest and went directly to her calf. His hands were on her thigh now, holding her leg, and he had somehow slipped from alongside her to kneeling between her legs. Her leg trembled but he held her still as his lips worked their way down to her ankle. She _had_ to close her eyes, she _had_ to, and her head fell back against the bed at the feel of one of his hands on the back of her knee as his mouth burned a trail of passion along her skin from her ankle to her thigh. His other hand was on the inside of her leg, his fingertips brushing against sensitive skin near her undergarment; she could barely breathe!

Enguina was _desperate_ to touch him, to reach him, but even curling did not help her hands reach him when he was at her foot. Unable to touch even his head, she moaned softly, biting her lips and found her hands digging into the sheets, gripping them as tightly as she could. One of his hands discovered her other leg, and soon he was stroking the flesh on the back of both of her knees. Then on to her thighs, his mouth now trading kisses along her knees and wherever he wanted to go.

When he had almost finished his attention to her legs, she was breathless with pleasure, something she had never felt before. She was nearly whimpering, and she could feel him smiling even as he pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Oh… _Legolas_ , please come here… _please_ …" she muttered, finding his hand on her stomach to hold her gently. "So I can touch you…" His lips came from the inside of her thigh and skipped her pelvis, but his hands did not as they lightly touched her hips. Her breath stopped again as he pressed kisses along her stomach and along the line of her undergarment and around her belly. _Now_ she could reach him, and she did, tangling her fingers back into his hair and caressing his neck and shoulders and back and whatever she could reach.

She trembled hard as a few of his fingers brushed the back of her knee again; he knew that was _very_ sensitive along with patches of skin along her ribs on both sides. He made it a point to touch her there. Light touches, he found, were better in producing a reaction from her; light touches made her moan softly, whisper his name with passion. She would have had no idea, but she was calling out his name _continuously_ in his head. He, however, kept a tight rein on his control. He was making this about her, and he did not have to wonder if she was enjoying what he was doing. She was practically writhing beneath his hands, his lips; her fingers shaking against him, her legs shaking as well. She could hardly control her muscles now, and he was not anywhere near finished exploring her.

It might have been forever before he was unclothed, before she was, it might have been moments. It might have been forever when he could just stop enjoying the feel of her beneath his hands, the way her body moved when he found something she clearly took much pleasure in, the way he felt when she did something that _he_ enjoyed. When Legolas could have said he felt he had explored every part of Enguina, that he had memorized her enough for one night, that he had held her when her body had lost itself to trembling against him, and that she had explored every inch of him as well…only then, did the two of them lie down together on their bed.

Enguina still lay on her back, so he reached over her and turned her into his body, gently maneuvering her so every inch of her was pressed against him. Fully skin to skin, he lost himself for a moment in the feel of her body against him. _This_ was the way he wanted to give himself to her, to look in her eyes as they made love, to hold her, to whisper a thousand times that he loved her. She was kissing his neck, her body still trembling from his last caresses, still breathless. One arm held her against him, the other hand ran freely along her body, searching down until he reached the small of her back. She arched into him and he smiled, kissing her forehead and then her face as she lifted her head to look into his eyes.

" _Legolas_ ," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "do I not—"

"No," he told her gently, "you and I are going to make love this way…side by side…every inch of me pressed to every inch of you." Her breath caught in her throat at his words, and he ran his hand down her back to her thigh and as she slid as close to him as she could, he settled her left leg over his hip. The closeness, the intimacy of this moment, was intense, and her nails pierced the skin of his shoulders and her eyes closed, but he rubbed his nose against hers, kissing her perhaps a thousand times across the face. "Look at me, my love…look…" Enguina trembled and met his eyes and she saw the same fear mirrored in his. "I love you. I am your husband; you are my wife. I give everything I am to you…my heart, my soul, my body are yours."

She pressed her lips to his, her chest still tight, her breathing wild, her heartbeat erratic. She took a gasping breath as their foreheads touched, his hand stroking along her thigh to her knee, over and over again. "I am ready, Legolas," she murmured breathlessly. "I _want_ this…I-I want nothing more than to make love with you." Her eyes spilled over with tears. "I _want_ you…I want to give you all of me. I love you… _I love you_ …"

She cried, and he held her, kissing her face over and over again as he told her the same: that he loved her, that he wanted her to have him. When she was ready, when they both were, there was nothing left but to give in to each other, to wash away every stain and release every burden she had ever borne. Their minds merged, and their love was shared in the closeness of their embrace, both mental and physical. Legolas had told her that he would show her what real love was. She had never truly understood what that meant until they submitted themselves to one another, _gave_ themselves to each other in this passionate way. And their hearts, their minds, and their bodies became one flesh, and it was as beautiful as the dawn.


	54. Chapter 54

Faramir slipped on his tunic for sleep and peeked into the adjoining room to see if Annî was still awake. It was _late_ …or rather _early_ , and she at _last_ was asleep. He could not believe that she had remained awake so long when she had been exhausted long before the sun had set. She had danced a thousand times and run around with Aragorn and Arwen and then hung all over Éomer for an hour. She was the most precious child, and he adored her with his whole heart. He leaned against the wall and rested his head upon the doorframe. It had been the most wonderful celebration, but he was _tired_. He had avoided much of the ale, knowing Éomer and Gimli were going to be celebrating long into the night. He had not wanted to be completely drunk for the day—he could not, not when Éowyn was so pregnant and they had a child to care for.

And if _he_ was tired, he could not imagine how Éowyn had survived such a day, such a night. He turned and watched her for a moment, slipping off her simple shoes and reaching back to undo the buttons on the dress she wore. She stopped and her face tightened as she suddenly reached forward to touch her stomach; she had been doing this a lot lately and then telling him it was nothing. It did not ease him at all, however, thinking that every time she did it she was in labor. She reached back again and fumbled with the buttons, her fingers simply not doing what she wanted, and he went to her without asking, undoing them for her and helping her slip off the dress over her head.

"Thank you," she said, and he smiled at her, touching her chin.

"You are exhausted, falling asleep where you stand. Let me help you," he said.

"I can get it," she said, her sigh nearly a groan, "I just need a little more time."

"Let me help," he said again, and he slipped the shift over her head as well, handing her the nightgown as he moved both the dress and the slip to the chair for now. He turned back to her as she began organizing the gown in her hands, blindly turning it this way and that—she was so exhausted! He could not help but look long at the amazing body that was once again preparing to bring a child into the world; _his_ child. He knew she hated looking at herself right now, yet he could not help but continue to remind her how lovely she was.

"Do not stare, Faramir," she said tiredly.

"Why should I not?" he said, moving over to her and wrapping an arm around her waist, laying his hand on her womb. "You are gorgeous."

"Oh stop. I am _huge_."

He laughed. "Oh, Éowyn, you are carrying our child. I know you do not feel lovely, but you _should_. Do I not tell you enough?"

"I am so…uncomfortable right now," she muttered, and she laid her head on his shoulder as he rubbed her belly gently. The other hand that had been on her back moved lower to the edge of her undergarment; between the small of her back and her tailbone, he applied some pressure. She groaned and closed her eyes. "That is _right_ where it _hurts_."

"I know," he said. "It is a bit lower than Annî, is it not? Let us get you dressed and lying down and I will rub your back…and your swollen ankles."

She lifted her head. "Are they swollen? You know I cannot see them. And _do not_ laugh."

He tried to hide his smile and she punched him in the other shoulder. "Yes, they are swollen, love. You have been standing half the night and chasing Annî the other half." He slipped the nightdress over her head and then began leading her to the bed.

"No I have not," she said as helped her lie down on her side. "I have been letting everyone else chase her, _especially_ Arwen." He started on her back and he heard her sniff softly, her voice thick. "I am a terrible mother."

" _Éowyn_ ," he chided her, and then leaned over to kiss her shoulder, "you are a _wonderful_ mother. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ who sees you says so."

She sniffed again, resting a hand on her womb. "They do?"

"Yes," he said seriously. "So stop fretting. Annî is rambunctious, like I was at her age, and everyone loves her. Let them chase her around a bit. Moreover, she enjoys it."

She groaned, her eyes tightly closed. "Faramir, I am _so_ uncomfortable."

"What can I do?" he asked, worried. She shook her head.

"You are probably doing it, I am afraid." He remained silent but his hands continued working her lower back. She surprised him after a little while, when he thought her asleep, when she reached back and caught his hands.

He leaned over and looked into her face, noticing her deep blush. "What is it, Éowyn?"

"As much as I am enjoying lying here letting you do that, I…really need to get up and use the toilet." He slipped off the bed immediately, knowing that being as heavy with child as she was she had been having difficulty and he knew how much she hated feeling like a convalescent, as though she needed to be taken care of all the time. He helped her towards the bath, could see her wincing the entire time; either her feet were very sore, or she was really struggling tonight.

"What is paining you so?" he asked softly. "You are walking very oddly, Éowyn."

She kept her hands on her stomach as he held her arm. "There is so much _pressure_ , Faramir," she told him, almost breathless. "I feel as if I…as if I cannot hold…as if I am…" She stuttered over the words, quite unable to explain how she really felt, or feeling that the words would be inappropriate.

"What? What are you feeling?" She could not answer.

As they passed the threshold into the bath, she gripped the doorframe and stopped suddenly as her knees went weak, a tightening going through her back and into her abdomen. She was not going to reach that toilet fast enough. Stunned and embarrassed about wetting herself as she stood there, she could hardly tell Faramir, her face burning. The feeling passed and she took another half-step, Faramir truly concerned now, and then the tightness increased and she gasped, her nails digging into the wooden frame and her other hand clutching her abdomen. Mouth open in astonishment, she had a fleeting thought—was it possible that she had been in labor for several hours without knowing it? There was a feeling of heavy pressure and she felt the fluid on her legs.

"Oh, _Faramir_ …" she said, gripping his arm. The breathlessness in her voice frightened him for a moment and he reached out and laid a hand on her belly beside hers. Her muscles were tight and tense.

"Éowyn," he said, "you are frightening me! What—"

"This baby is ready," she said, laughing softly in astonishment. "Oh Eru, I am such a fool."

"He is—what do you—are you all right?" She nodded and gave him an uncomfortable look. "What is happening?"

"I am in labor, Faramir," she said and his arm tightened around her.

"You are? He is that ready?"

"This baby is not going to wait. I…soiled this dress with the birthing fluids," she murmured, and he could feel her embarrassment. He looked down and saw a pool of liquid forming at her feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worried. "Should you not be lying down? Is this not very early for—"

"It _is_ early, but…the Healers warned me that I had to be careful, that I might not feel the contractions the way I did before. I think…I think I may have been in labor for a few hours…"

" _What?_ " Her hand tightened on him.

" _God_ , Faramir there is so much _pressure_ …my knees are so weak…"

"What do I need to do? What do you need from me?" he asked gently. He needed to get her to the Houses; with all the chaos that had happened last time, he was _not_ letting her give birth here only with him. "We need to clean you up, yes? Get you dressed."

"I think…I hope we have time for that…"

He leaned back and looked in her face. "Honestly, Éowyn…are you really…" He watched her chew on her lip.

"There is…so much _pressure_ …" she said breathlessly, tears filling her eyes.

"It is going to be all right," he said, stroking her face and rubbing his hand against her belly again. "I _promise_ everything is going to be all right. Let me get this dress off of you," he said more firmly, "and get some towels." He leaned her against the doorway and went immediately into the bath to grab some towels, setting one on the floor beneath her and tossing the others over his shoulder so he could remove her nightdress. After he had done that, he wiped her off; the fluid was continuing to come slowly, so he held a towel to her. He kissed her cheeks and she had to smile. "Hold this for me," he told her gently, "and I will get your dress, and wake Annî." She nodded, but gripped his arm.

" _Please_ , Faramir… _with haste_ ," she whispered, and he left immediately, jogging into the other room where his daughter was fast asleep.

"Annî, Annî…wake up, love…" he said to her. The little girl opened her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, love," he said, "come on, up you get. The baby is coming and we need to go to the Houses of Healing."

"The _baby_?" she squeaked and she rolled out of bed, reaching for his neck. "Oh _Daddy!_ " He caught her hands and then kissed her forehead.

"I cannot carry you, Annî; can you walk? I need to carry your mother."

"Mommy can't walk?" she asked, grabbing her stuffed lamb and shoving her thumb in her mouth.

"Not right now, love," he said. "Now go put on your shoes." She scampered from the room and he yanked his boots on, bouncing along on one foot as he grabbed another of Éowyn's nightdresses and went back to her side. "How are we?" he asked, and she opened her eyes to look at him, letting out a breath.

"All right." She saw what he held. "No, that is not dec—"

"It is modest," he said, "and I am not stuffing you back into that dress you wore to the wedding. We will have Arwen bring you something tomorrow. Come on, Annî is ready, as am I…we are waiting on you now." He helped her put the dress on and then he scooped her off her feet.

"We cannot leave the house like—"

"Éowyn, _forget_ the house," he said, rolling his eyes as he held her against his chest. "I care about you, Annî, and that little one inside you. These are the things that matter; forget everything else."

"Will you send for Aragorn…Arwen?" she whispered, laying her head to the side against his chest. "I would be easier if they were near."

"Of course," he said, "when we get to the Houses."

"Mommy, Mommy!" cried Annî. "The _baby_ is coming!"

She smiled down at her, her fingers tightening on Faramir's collar as another contraction made her tighten and her back ache with pain. "Annî," she said, but her name came out more like a gasp, "open the door for you father, will you?"

The three of them made their way into the street and towards the Houses; Annî skipping, waving her lamb and shouting, and Faramir carrying Éowyn with as little jostling as possible, heart racing with anticipation and worry for the new life she was carrying.

* * *

Arwen laughed gaily as they entered the House, towing Aragorn by the hand. He spun her back into him, falling against the door as she fell into him, still laughing. Leaning her hands against his chest, she pressed her lips to his chin as his hands held her against him.

"I could have danced _all night_ ," she said, smiling beautifully, and he rested his forehead against hers. "I did not want to stop."

"Oh, I know," he told her. "My feet are feeling it."

She laughed again, kissed him again. "It was the most wonderful celebration. Legolas and Enguina were so happy; she so beautiful, he so handsome." She sighed. "Do you think they are—"

"I think they are perfect," he told her, nodding. "When I think of them, I have an overwhelming sense of peace…I believe everything is wonderful. In fact, they probably are having an easier time of it than we did."

"We helped them," she said.

"We needed to," he agreed. "Can you imagine what would have happened if we had not? If Legolas felt he was hurting her? That would have been positively awful. No, we did everything we could to make them easier." He kissed her again, several times, losing himself in the moment before he remembered he had something to say. "And you, my dear…"

"Hmmm?"

"You have been giving me that _look_ all evening."

"What look?" she teased him, and he brushed his nose against her neck and felt her pulse with his lips. She felt feverish—it had been some time since she had felt overwhelmed by the desire she had for him. Wine made her this way from time to time; she did not drink often. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You have been undressing me all evening…I know it only too well."

"I have?" she looked at him beneath half-lidded eyes. Her fingers found the buttons on his tunic near his ribs and he raised his eyebrows when he discovered they were already undone. Her hands slipped inside and she pressed herself against him, leaning into him even further. " _Now_ I am undressing you."

"You have had," he whispered in between too many heated kisses from her, "a bit of wine this evening." Her hands were roaming now, his tunic completely undone. "You _have_ been torn though."

"Torn?" she murmured. "I have been able to think of nothing but _our_ wedding night for the past two hours."

"There were other things you wanted," he told her, "such as dancing until our feet were about to fall off, or the song you sang with Erumar—"

"Oh, that _was_ beautiful, was it not?" she asked, and she pressed her body against him as her lips found his for a few _more_ heated kisses. Raising her hand to his head, she wrapped her fingers gently around the crown he wore and lifted it. "I want to run my fingers through your hair," she told him, "and this is in the way." Her hand fell to her side as he bent her back slightly at the waist to kiss her again.

A knock on the door at his back startled both of them. He straightened, his hand still wrapped around her back, hers wrapped beneath his tunic and clinging to him. Utterly breathless with her desire for him, she closed her eyes as she tried to rein herself back from where her thoughts had been going, what she had been yearning the last two or three hours for. The knock came again, insistent, and he stroked her chin as he released her, his own knees weak with the thought of how her fire had burned him. Her eyes were closed as he touched her nose.

"Patience, beloved," he whispered. "Good things come to those who wait."

She leaned her hip against the table, touching her forehead with her hand as his chest was covered back up by the buttoned tunic. "I…need cold water," she muttered, and she knew he was feeling much the same when he could not even laugh at her assessment of the situation. Quelling what she was feeling was incredibly difficult as he turned away to unlock and open the front door. When she saw who it was, she was even more eager to appear as though everything was normal.

"Mennev, good evening," Aragorn said, his tone one of surprise. He, too, was still working to collect himself.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, my King, Lady," he said, bowing to them both. "But my Lord Faramir sent me here with an urgent request from the White Lady for you both to come with me."

Arwen raised her head at the mention of Éowyn, brushing aside her desire much more easily with worry as Aragorn looked at the Captain with concern. "What is it, Mennev? Is she all right?"

"Is it the baby?" asked Arwen, and Mennev nodded.

"I do believe she's preparing to give birth as we speak." Arwen's hands went to her mouth and Aragorn smiled.

"Is she all right?"

"Prince Faramir didn't seem worried beyond his…usual feelings of anxiety for her," he said, stepping back from the door. "But she asked for you both, and I'm assuming he thinks she'll be easier with you there. I don't wish to rush you; if you aren't ready quite yet—"

"No, no," Aragorn said. "We only just arrived."

"Please, take us to them," Arwen added and quickly she turned aside, slipping the coronet from her hair and leaving both hers and Aragorn's on the table. Aragorn reached for her hand, she took it, and the two of them walked immediately back out into the night.

* * *

"Do you have any idea how long it has been since I stepped foot where there was dancing?"

Thranduil was walking along with Erumar holding his arm, amazed that it was this hour of the morning and he had been dancing with her much longer than he had even realized. His son and Enguina had left several hours ago, and he felt a perfect sense of peace. To see the way they looked at each other today, tonight, his heart had been flooded with joy. Yes, they would have many long years of love. He would pray for that love as long as he lived and that nothing would ever happen to them that caused them the sort of grief he had come to know in his own personal…well, he would not exactly call it a _pit of darkness_ at the moment. He had enjoyed himself _much_ too much tonight, and it was as pleasant as it was unexpected.

"Longer than _me_ ," she said with a lilt in her voice, "you are far older."

He laughed, grinning because he felt a bit… _off_ …and it was good. "Well, let us see then. When was the last time you danced?"

"With friends? A few hundred years. With a man? Over a thousand since my wedding," she replied, her voice thoughtful. "He was not much for dancing." He noticed easily that she had not said his name.

"You are a wonderful dancer," he said. "It is a shame you have not had any opportunity." He gave her a smile. "When you come to the Greenwood, which you must do at some point, I shall hold a party for you."

She looked over at him and met his eyes. "I…think I would like that very much. That is very kind of you. Thank you for the invitation."

"I… _hope_ you will come," he said, looking down at their feet as they walked along together, suddenly embarrassed. "Perhaps that was too bold."

"No," she said with a smile. "Thranduil, I… _must_ tell you…"

"Yes?" he asked, and they came to a halt in the middle of the shadowy passageway between the sixth and seventh levels.

"I want to thank you, for last night, for yesterday morning, for tonight. You have been…very kind to me and I have felt…" She hesitated and then carefully chose her words. "I have felt more alive these past few days, around you and Enguina, Legolas, and the others, than I have felt in the last seven years. I have been…in such pain. I still am," she added honestly. "Even now my heart is weighted with the grief of that loss. The suffering is—"

"Intense," he finished for her, thinking of her tearing up grass and dropping to her knees. "I know, but…may I…may I speak plain?"

She hesitated. "I think we should always be honest with each other."

He smiled in spite of himself. "I make a vow that I will hide nothing."

"I…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should make amends to that? I vow that I will always speak the truth to you, be honest with you. It will make for an easier friendship."

She did smile then. "A vow it is."

"Then let me say this," and he reached down and took her hands. "Erumar, I enjoy spending my time with you, and not just because of the grief we have shared. You are very easy to talk to, understanding, and to be honest, you laugh at me, which I find soul-lightening." She laughed as he said that, and he smiled. "See? What I mean to say is…I am not asking you for the future; I am not asking for a plan for our lives or anything of that sort. I am asking for the present. Continue to walk with me, share time with me while we are together. Would you be willing to do that?" Erumar nodded, but he could sense a hesitation in her response. "What is it?"

"It would be…unfair of me if—though we are not speaking of the future," she said, blushing, looking down. He tipped her chin with a finger.

"We made a vow."

She hesitated another moment, and he saw her eyes fill though no tears fell. "I do not know if I can ever love again."

His hands tightened on hers. "I do not know if I can either," he admitted honestly.

"But…we are not seeking the future."

"No," he agreed. "We are seeking the present."

She nodded. "I think I can give you that."

"Good, because I very much enjoyed the time we spent tonight. And someday, I would, very much, like you to see Eryn Lasgalen." She smiled at him. "I think that my woods could use a bit of your song." They heard footsteps behind them from the seventh level and both of them turned to look as Thranduil returned Erumar's hand to his arm. "Did you two not just _leave_ the party a short while ago?"

Aragorn laughed as he and Arwen, led by Mennev, stopped beside the two of them. "We did, indeed, but we must head this way to the Houses—"

"Éowyn is in labor," Arwen told them.

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Erumar, smiling.

"But Éomer is still at the celebration," added Thranduil. "Who shall watch the child?"

"She's in the Houses with her father at the moment," Mennev replied.

"Lord Faramir should be with his wife," Thranduil said firmly. "Childbearing is no easy thing. If Andúnêiel's uncle cannot be found, then I will come with you both and watch the child."

Aragorn bowed his head to him. "You are more than welcome, Thranduil. Join us, please. I am certain that Faramir, and through him Éowyn, shall be very grateful." Thranduil turned to Erumar.

"Would you like me to escort you home first?"

"No, no, it is all right; I would be more than happy to join you. All hands can be used to entertain a little girl for a few hours."

"Come, let us go to her then," said Arwen, smiling at them as she held Aragorn's hand once again. The five of them made their way to the Houses and when they arrived, Mennev went out among the streets to see if he could locate the King of Rohan among the guests still celebrating.

* * *

It was not quite dawn when Enguina slowly blinked her eyes, feeling the press of her body against her beloved's side. Her head was cushioned on his chest, her right hand lying against his velvety skin. Legolas lay on his back, she on her side, but there was enough light in the room to see him…to _really_ see him. There were no sheets to cover them, to cover _him_ , yet she felt warm within his embrace. She _could_ really see him. She swallowed; he was so…so… _gorgeous_ —the way his shoulder curved into his arm, the way his hip met his side, his knees—she was completely captivated by him. She never thought that she would ever find the sight of a man beautiful…but _he_ was. His breathing was regular; he was not yet awake. That was _good._

Her fingers were gently tracing circles along his breast as she thought of last night. Something in her tingled, felt funny in the pit of her stomach, her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed again. He had made _love_ to her last night; now she finally understood what that meant, with his hands, with his mouth, with his body…to _every_ part of her. Was there a place she had that he had not touched? Their kisses had been different last night as well, but the way he had pressed his lips to her _skin_ , his tongue brushing her throat…oh, it made her nearly shiver _now_. Yes, she had loved him, caressed him with more boldness than she had ever thought she would have, but she had wanted to please him as he had her. _Oh_ , _he_ had brought her pleasure…she had never felt anything so breathtaking than the way he had loved her. Thinking about it now gave her chills and goose bumps down her flesh and she trembled against him.

She _did_ feel a slight discomfort where they had been joined; she knew there would be this morning after last night's initial twinge, but it was only her muscles aching. He had been…he had been _so gentle_ with her and it had been slow and _wonderful_ and they had touched one another and stared into each other's eyes and kissed countless times as they had made love side-by-side. It had been perfect; it was theirs…and she would remember it forever, the first time she gave herself to him whole-heartedly. She would never forget this first night—not for the rest of her forever with him. She smiled to herself, embarrassed by her thoughts: she would not be able to put _this_ perfect memory of them on the quilt.

As she stroked his chest, she could not help but think of the way her dreams had been decimated by Legolas's love for her. Their wedding, their dancing, their love-making, all of these things were embraced within her mind. With deep regret, it did not mean that she would never dream again, that she would never think about what horrors Bragolaur had done to her, that she would never feel the pain that he had caused her. She _would_ , but Ilúvatar had given her love to temper that pain, love to endure the storm, the caresses of Legolas to undo her hurt, the lips of Legolas to remove her scars. Yes, Ilúvatar had blessed her immeasurably and she felt the desire rise in her to show Legolas how much she loved him. He had so physically loved her last night; she wanted to do the same for him this morning. He had told her that she would love waking to him…let _him_ wake to the press of _her_ skin against him.

Carefully rising onto her left elbow, she lifted her head, closed her eyes, and placed kisses along his breast, her fingers still tracing circles upon his chest. She moved slowly, her mouth working its way towards his collarbone, her hand drawing down towards his stomach. She reached his throat and his hip before she felt him move his hand on her back, felt his fingers in her hair. Slipping her knee over his and touching her toes to his ankle, she ignored the fact that he was awake for a moment and pressed her lips back down along his chest the way he had kissed her last night. She opened her eyes as she moved her mouth, hers meeting his and holding as she continued the kisses. Finally, when she was certain she had completely woken and aroused him at the same time, she lifted her head and brought her lips to his. Surprisingly, he kissed her slowly, passionately, and when their lips parted after long moments, they were both breathless.

" _This is wonderful_ …" he whispered and she giggled into him, unable to control her delight. "This is the most wonderful experience of my life, waking up to you, _my wife_."

Tears filled her eyes. "And me, waking up to _you_ , _my husband_." His left arm trapped beneath her body, his right hand still moved along her bare skin, following along her side and down her back, and she pressed herself into him more tightly.

"I am learning you already," he told her softly, and she felt his other hand spend some time at the small of her back and near her hip—sensitive areas he had discovered. She broke off another kiss with a bit of a gasp, and he took her shoulder then, leaning her back off of him. He quickly bumped her chin up with his hand and lifted his head to sow kisses all along her jaw to her ear. Her nails pinched against his hip and he smiled, but did not try to move her away. He was hers; she could hold him wherever she wanted. "You aroused me this morning," he whispered into her throat

"I could tell," she said in the same tone, and he felt the heat of her face as she blushed when his fingertips stroked gently over her right breast. Her back arched without her say-so and her skin flushed with even more heat.

"Now, it is my turn," he told her, and she felt his tongue find that spot just beneath her ear.

 _Oh, Ilúvatar…please!_ She trembled against him as his other hand continued to gently caress the skin of her breasts. She felt him gently nudge her body over with his knee and he pressed back against her chest, lowering her onto her back as he rolled to his side, capturing her lips again for a moment before he moved lower. He held her arm to the bed near her elbow, and his mouth pressed hot kisses to the sensitive skin beneath her arm, his eyes on his other hand that still brushed her chest.

She swallowed hard, shivering with pleasure against him as she used her foot to stroke his leg from his ankle and along his strong calf, her hand still gripping his hip as he pressed himself against her. He did not miss anything with his mouth that he had discovered last night, and soon his hand was touching her elsewhere and his mouth had replaced his hand against her breast again. "You…remember everything," she said breathlessly, disbelieving she could be this completely gone; she felt almost light-headed. He dragged his hand from her knee _down_ her thigh and she moaned softly. "Legolas, _Legolas…_ " The way he touched her was too much!

"I _love_ when you whisper my name," he whispered, and it continued in his head when she could not continue saying it aloud when her throat closed because of the way his breath caressed her breast. He lifted his knee and bumped hers aside, giving his hand freedom to roam to her other leg as her nails dragged from his hip to his knee where she gripped him, holding his leg there as hers rubbed against him, their skin slowly dragging together as she tried to get even closer to him. "That feels nice," he chuckled into the center of her chest, and the press of his lips made her shiver again. "You are so _warm_ …" he murmured, and the feel of his hand made her arch from the bed.

She moved her elbow to support herself and his arm slipped underneath her to hold her body closer to his face. That was not quite what she had meant to do, but between his mouth and his hand, her hips were pressing into him; oh, he was enjoying watching the pleasure cross her face, listening to her breath leave her as he caressed the most sensitive parts of her he could touch.

" _Oh Elbereth…_ Arwen was _right_ ," she moaned and Legolas grinned to himself as he lifted his head to press his lips and tongue up along her collarbone with _agonizing_ deliberateness. The arm that was trying to support her was about to cave in; perhaps it was not doing anything to hold her already.

"Guin, Guin," he murmured, "what was she right about?"

" _Everything…_ "

"That is cheating," he teased her, his voice no more than a whisper. "Tell me."

" _Legolas_ …" He knew then that she had not meant to say it aloud, that it was supposed to be thought in her head. But now he had to know; he _had_ to. Her body was moving beneath him, against him, and he would have bet anything she did not even know she was doing it.

"Tell me…" he urged her, running the hand that was helping to hold her up and down her back to the spot just below her ribcage. Her hips pressed towards him, her head fell back, and he began kissing as far up her throat as he could get, feeling her pulse hammering against his lips. " _God_ , I have found a hidden talent…one I never knew I had."

She could barely breathe, but she knew what he was talking about and she had to let a laugh sneak out of her throat. " _Giving_ _me pleasure_ …"

"Mmm…" he agreed.

A whimper escaped her lips. " _Incredibly good at it_."

"Now, tell me or I will stop…"

 _Not…nice…_ He heard the words clearly in his head, and he was surprised to find they were said as breathlessly as they would have been said out loud. He chuckled against her throat.

 _I was not serious…_

And then Legolas tugged her upright, the two of them partially sitting in each other's laps as he lowered his mouth to her breast again, his leg now wrapped around behind her, one hand holding her tightly to him, the _other_ … She gasped and wrapped a hand in his hair, her other hand stroking his body, _everything_ that was in reach. This was _too_ good. There was no way she was made to feel this way, this good. Was it possible that he was meant to be this wonderful? Was it possible that just the press of their flesh together could make her weak, make her tremble like this?

"What was she right about?" he asked her again and between his mouth and his hand, she stuttered out a reply.

"That her desire was stronger _after_ knowing what they had _shared_ and I-I-I…oh, _Legolas…Legolas!_ " She could barely _think_ as she felt him rock her against him, dragging one of her legs over his lap so it wrapped around behind him. He felt her nails suddenly pierce his shoulders, her elbows resting against his chest and he continued what he was doing with his hands, his mouth. She was arching into him again, her body pressing into him as close as she could get, her breathing quick and shallow, heart racing, her pulse pounding through his brow as it was pressed against her heart. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably and he felt her tighten every muscle she had around him.

She had completely lost all control of the situation that she had begun this morning, her voice crying out in his head with the pleasure he was bringing her. He delighted in it; he wanted to please her so badly that he could think of nothing but the feel of her back arching, the press of her to him, as she shivered against him.

It took a few moments, but her lips came against his ear, so she must have been coming down from wherever she had been moments ago in her head. He could not help but smile; this was what he had wanted all along, to make her know what his love was like, the power of it, what he felt for her, what she deserved.

"Make love with me," she moaned softly in his ear, and he brought his lips suddenly to her jaw, her chin. _Legolas…Legolas…_

"Oh Guin…we have been making love since you woke me with your kisses," he whispered. "This _is_ making love…to be holding you like this against me, to feel your passion as you tremble. This is what we have spent our whole lives waiting to share." _Oh, Guin…they were both right. They were both right about how wonderful this is to share with you, to give to you…how I love you!_

She swallowed. "D-do you want me to l-lie b-back," she stuttered out, barely able to form a thought other than about his words, his hands, his thoughts in her head, "lie d-d—"

"Not yet," he whispered, and he gently adjusted her to be fully in his lap, his one arm wrapping around her lower body, his other hand tilting her chin so he could kiss her slowly, covering her quiet groan as her breath left her for a moment, her nails tightening in his flesh. "This," he continued softly, "is a better idea that we can revel in slowly, my Guin."

"I love you," she whispered back, her words filling his heart. "I love you _so much_ … _please_ …"

"Let me love you the way you deserve," he told her. "Let us make slow, passionate love together. Hold onto me, cling to me…let us love until our strength is gone."

" _Oh Legolas…_ "

He pressed his lips to her throat, tightening his hold upon her, and they once more gave in to each other.


	55. Chapter 55

Author's Note: Thank you, Wickedgreene13! :O) I am really glad it met your hopes! :O) And rubberkidney, I DO hope to write an Eldarion story at some point! It isn't in my next two, lol, which are already MOSTLY written, and are a bit angsty like these two, but I can't wait to write it and have every intention of doing so! I had no idea all those things about Elves and that I was so far off, but thank you for enjoying the story despite all my clear misconceptions. Thanks for the heads up (even though fixing that would change everything...hahaha!)! Enjoy these last few chapters-we're coming down to the end here!

* * *

The midwife was present, but Éowyn had asked for him and Aragorn was not about to do anything but make her as easy as possible. Éowyn was clearly exhausted and in serious pain; the pain bothered him the most. He watched Faramir struggle to stay calm. The man had not left her side since he and Arwen had come, holding her hand, stroking her face, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cool cloth. It was clear that Éowyn was trying desperately to make Faramir no more anxious than he already was, trying to smother her pain, but she was weak from the strain. She whimpered once, her back arched a little off the bed, the muscles in her neck tightening, and Arwen ran her fingers through the woman's hair.

"Shh…everything is going to be all right, Éowyn…you are all right."

Every tendon in Faramir's arms stood out, and Aragorn felt for him. Child-birth was not easy. Annî's birth had been different, because she had been breech there had been many things that could have happened that could have been fatal for both Éowyn and for her. Here, Aragorn was not expecting anything like that. When he had arrived, Kinna, the midwife, had told him that the baby was in the correct position to be birthed but that Éowyn's body was not quite ready yet. The _child_ was ready, but Éowyn was not. Even though her water had broken, the opening had not been large enough for the babe to come, and so her body was straining with the effort to press him free, but he could not be born. The only trouble this created was that Éowyn was utterly exhausted and her pain was more intense than the last time.

He knew Thranduil and Erumar were in the next room, occupying Annî, Éomer, and their own minds. Éomer had come as soon as he had gotten the word, shaking off any sleep he might have been hoping for and cursing himself for the ale he had. He had taken his sister's hand, but had only stayed for a moment before encouraging Faramir and going out to stay with his niece. As an aside to Aragorn, he had mentioned that he had barely handled the birth of Elfwine, and he could not bear to be near his own sister in that much pain. That was his brother's position, and he was right to hold her.

Another contraction came while he had been thinking and Éowyn cried out this time, unable to hold back, crushing Faramir's fingers in her grip. Arwen laid a hand in her hair, bowed her head, trying to ease her if only a little as she held her other hand.

"Éowyn, you are doing well," Faramir whispered to her, pressing his lips against her hand as he held her shoulder with the other. Her head fell limply back against the pillow; she was so _tired_ , her back felt as though someone was laying a hammer to her repeatedly. She moaned, her pulse rapid, her breathy gasps frightening him.

Aragorn laid a hand on Éowyn's knee to get Faramir's and Éowyn's attention. "The babe is nearly ready, Éowyn; he is almost crowning. You need to be ready, too; gather your strength."

Tears filled her eyes as Faramir kissed her hand. "I…am…weary…"

"You can do this, love," he said, bending over to kiss her head. "Just breathe…think about holding that baby in your arms, yes?" He slipped his arm beneath her neck, pressing his face to hers for a moment. "Think about that life inside you, that you and I have made together. Annî's brother or sister…she is so excited." She tried to laugh, but the breath caught in her throat. Arwen lifted her head and looked with concern at Aragorn.

"She will be fine," he said encouragingly.

"She is in _pain_ ," she whispered so low he could barely hear her. She had not wanted Faramir to hear what she had to say. "She is weak. _Can_ she—"

"Yes," he nodded, and then he looked up. "Kinna, can you bring me what I asked you to prepare for me?"

"Of course, my Lord." Arwen watched as Kinna brought him a short-bladed knife and she very nearly panicked. She swallowed hard, trying rather desperately to trust him. She could not ask him what he was doing; it was quite clear he did not want Faramir to know.

"She will not even feel it," he whispered to her. "The child is too large for her." Éowyn's next contraction came and Faramir tried to encourage her through it. The pain was worse and when her head dropped back to Faramir's arm, she felt light-headed.

"Stay with me, Éowyn," he said to her as her eyes rolled. She tried to nod as Arwen covered her forehead with another cool cloth. It felt good against her face.

"Éowyn, it is time," Aragorn said, squeezing her knee again. "Hold her, Faramir. Kinna, stay here with me, please. Maybe three good pushes and he will be joining us."

" _Oh_ …" Éowyn whispered, and she held their hands tight, "I will try."

With her first push the baby crowned and Aragorn could not keep the smile off his face as he looked up at Kinna. "We can nearly see his eyes, milady!" she cried with joy. Éowyn was breathing hard, Faramir's arms around her as she clutched his arm with both of her hands, holding on tightly. Arwen left her hand now in Éowyn's hair, whispering words of comfort; Éowyn did not know what she was saying as she had lapsed into Elvish, but listening to her speak was beautiful. It distracted her for half-a-moment and then there was nothing but the pain seizing her lower body, her back.

"Push, Éowyn… _push_ ," Aragorn encouraged her, and she felt Faramir's cheek press against her forehead. She cried out, struggling to gather her strength, tears on her face. " _Éowyn…_ he is so _beautiful_ …one more push. Just one more…" She was shaking now in her husband's arms, afraid she might collapse; she could hardly breathe.

"Breathe, Éowyn," he whispered to her. Arwen reached over and set her hand in the center of Éowyn's chest, and she felt the tightening begin to loosen a bit, she could breathe more easily. Relief flooded her and the panic left, and she felt the contraction build within her along with awful pain.

There were soft exclamations from both Aragorn and Kinna, and Aragorn grinned, looking over into Faramir's eyes, tears on his face. "He is here, Faramir…you have a boy, a son."

"Éowyn, we have a son!" he cried, kissing her face, her forehead, her tears away. She tried to laugh at him again, but she was so exhausted that if he had not been holding her head it would have been falling over the back of the pillow again. Arwen laid a hand on her shoulder, crying softly herself at their joy, and watching the face of their son as Aragorn handed him up to Kinna.

It was some minutes before the child was wiped clean and wrapped gently before she laid him in Faramir's arms. Aragorn remained at Éowyn's lower body to help clean her up carefully, then wait for the afterbirth so he could stitch the cut he had made. Faramir stared down into his little one's face and brought his arm to Éowyn's chest so she could see him.

" _Look…my love, look what we have created together…_ "

Arwen choked back tears and sat back to watch the two of them as Éowyn brought a shaking hand to lay along her son's face. "Oh… _Folengel_ …your son…"

" _Our son_ ," he said, kissing her and then kissing his little head; the child appeared blonde at the moment. Their little one opened his eyes, slowly blinking, and looked at them; both of them broke down into tears.

"Take him out to them, to Annî," she whispered, her head lolling back against his arm again. She could barely keep her eyes open now. No matter how much she wanted to stare at that little face, it was nearly impossible.

"I do not want to leave you," he told her, and Arwen laid her hand on his arm.

"I will stay with her," she said through her tears, but her eyes were on the baby.

"Touch him, Tiriel…please," Éowyn struggled to whisper. Arwen held back a sob, a lump in her throat, and took her hand again, brushing trembling fingers against the baby's brow. She could barely speak as Faramir smiled.

"Ilúvatar," she murmured, closing her eyes, "bless this little one into your care. What a beautiful ending to such a perfectly planned few days…Father, you are good."

"There now," Éowyn breathed, her eyes fluttering, "he has been properly blessed." She sighed, her face tightening with pain and her weakness. "Faramir, I…I cannot…"

"Rest now, Éowyn," he told her. "Arwen will be right here; I will be back before you even notice I am gone." He stood and turned, and Aragorn met him, laying his hand gently on his shoulder.

"Folengel…what a beautiful name. Congratulations, Faramir."

"Thank you," he said, staring down into the little face, "for taking care of Éowyn again."

"I am glad you were here this time with her. It made her a little easier to have you encourage her, to have you beside her."

Faramir paled a little. "That was…the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

Aragorn nodded. "But you survived, friend."

"She…she is going to be all right?"

"Éowyn will be weak for a little while, and sore. Let her rest; we will be right here with her." Faramir nodded and then slipped from the room.

Aragorn remained near Éowyn's legs until he could be sure he had stitched the cut as deftly as possible while Kinna held her very still. Outside the room, it was easy to hear the cries of joy and Annî's clear happiness that she had a brother. Then, when he and Kinna had finally cleaned her, he made his way to take Faramir's place at Éowyn's side, reaching out to lay a hand on her forehead.

Éowyn's eyes fluttered and she barely cracked them to acknowledge his hand on her face. "You did so well, Éowyn," Aragorn whispered to her. "You were so very brave."

"F-Faramir—"

"He is outside with Annî who is screaming with delight," he told her gently. "You need to rest. The babe will be back and be hungry soon…you need rest before that."

Her hand tightened a bit in Arwen's. "Wake m-me?"

"Of course, Éowyn," Arwen replied, rubbing her thumb against her hand. "Sleep, dearest."

Éowyn was asleep almost immediately. When she was, Aragorn lifted his eyes to Arwen's face, but found she would not look at him. There was nothing to say, not here anyway, and the only thing he could do was reach over and take her hand within his own and caress her with his mind. The squeeze between his hand and their connection was like a squeeze to her heart. For the moment, holding her this way was enough.

* * *

The King's House was quiet as Aragorn shoved open the door, leading Arwen inside by the hand. It was exactly as she had left it; their crowns on the table. Neither one of them moved to pick them up as Arwen closed the door behind her. Instead, Aragorn continued to lead her slowly towards their bedroom, at the moment he wanted nothing but sleep. The moment of fleeting passion they had shared before going to the Houses had long passed, and there was no way he had the energy to love her as she deserved. And yet, there were other things than love-making on his mind.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked him as they entered their bedchamber.

"I am famished," Aragorn said softly, "but I am too exhausted to care if I put anything in my mouth." He sighed. "In fact, I might be too exhausted to chew at the moment."

"To bed then," she replied, and he nodded, unbuttoning the top of his tunic and then yanking it off over his head and dragging leggings out of the drawer to put on. A complete lack of coordination on his part led to a fruitless search for a tunic for sleeping and so he gave it up as a bad job. When he turned, he saw her standing there, looking at the dresser just as he had been, but she was stiff. He closed his eyes, took half-a-step forward and waited.

 _Come to me…_

She did, turning and moving into his arms; she had removed her dress, but never got past that, standing curled against him in her shift. She was trembling as he enfolded her in his arms, holding her warmly as she pressed her face to his neck. She was not yet crying, though that was inevitable.

"It was so beautiful…" she whispered to him and her voice was strained. " _He_ was so beautiful…why can I not simply let it go at that? Why does my heart need to—" Her voice choked off and she did break into sobs then, and he held her more tightly. " _Why do I need to break_? Can I not just love him? Can I not just be happy for them? At least _pretend_ it did not _hurt_ so much! Why did Faramir have to _see_?"

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "It is impossible to pretend, Arwen," he said gently. "It has only been six months and our wounds are still fresh."

"I…I…If I cannot have him," she whispered painfully, "I wish I could forget." He could feel that she _hated_ herself for the words she spoke out loud. As full of grief as she was, they still _had_ a son, if only for a short time, and she hated herself for trying to pretend they had not. "Ilúvatar forgive me," she said brokenly, "that is so wrong…I accepted this! I told IlúvatarI had accepted it!"

"No," he said, rocking her gently in his arms, "sometimes I try to forget, too." He thought about the moment Faramir had asked if he wanted to hold Folengel this morning…he simply could not _do_ it. He could not get his hands to function and he apologized to Faramir ten times, trying desperately not to hurt his feelings. But Faramir _understood_ ; they were _friends_. So they had left when Éowyn was yet sleeping, though she would be woken soon to feed a hungry babe when she desperately needed rest. They must keep watch over her; it had been a difficult labor. They would return in a few hours to make sure she was still doing well, but at the moment she was in good hands with Kinna.

"He asked…he asked you to—"

"I could not," he said, shaking his head. "No, it was too much already."

"How…how will we ever get past this?"

"Tomorrow…" he whispered, "we shall get past it tomorrow."

"Not today?" she said, and her voice was pleading. He shook his head gently.

"No, not right now. Tomorrow will be better, when we will see them again, when we have had more time to settle Folengel in our hearts." He found she was not breathing for a moment and he rubbed her back. "Breathe, beloved, breathe."

She gasped and gave another sob. "Ilúvatar, why? Why, why, why? I feel like my heart has been torn from my chest! I miscarried him!" The word made her _sick_ , and her head swam in her grief. "He is _gone_! I _cannot_ want him back!" she cried, thinking of her words to Enguina not weeks ago, that down that path lay despair. "It is _wrong_! _Wrong_! Ilúvatar, rescue me… _please_!" An agonized whimper escaped her lips and Aragorn's heart clenched tight. " _See_ _me!_ Take it away… _take it away; I beg you!_ "

Her words made his heart ache even more, and he desperately asked Ilúvatar himself, _Why did their child have to be a boy, a son? If it had only been another girl…another girl and we may not have been feeling this as keenly as we are right now…_ Their grief was great in this moment. Even while they rejoiced with Faramir and Éowyn in the blessing of another child, they wanted one of their own so terribly that the pain was smothering.

"We…we _will_ have children," Aragorn whispered fiercely into her hair, her pain filling him as well as his own. "Ilúvatar _will_ give us this desire; I _know_ he will. He is _good,_ Arwen; we know he is good. He will not abandon us! We _will_ have children. We _will_."

Eventually, the exhaustion of the last few days—they had not caught five hours of sleep in nearly two days, the pain of grief—found their knees weakening and they turned to their bed. Laying down together, he held her close again, covering both of them, but most especially her trembling form, with a blanket. He prayed, he prayed with all his might that the peace of Ilúvatar might rest over them both, might be their shelter in this storm that kept raging against them.

* * *

Supper found Aragorn and Arwen in slightly better spirits. Sleep had pushed the agony back and they were determined to rise above their suffering. They had wanted to sleep through, but found when they woke that they were famished, so they came out to take some bread, cheese, and fruit together. They had no expectation of company and were not about to waste time cooking for themselves when they intended for sleep to find them again shortly after they would check on Éowyn again. Arwen had placed the plate on the table and found that Aragorn was leaning upon it, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin nodding downward towards them. She smiled and laid her hands against his face, touching her forehead to his.

"Hello there, sleepy-head," she whispered.

"I…am awake." Laughing softly, she laid her hands against his arms and kissed his brow.

"Time for some meager supper; sit down before you fall down."

"You…are very wise," he replied with a sigh. They took their seats at the table and he reached across it and simply held her hand. The touch was comforting, soothing, and though part of her wanted to forget the grief-stricken moments of earlier, she needed it; as always, she needed _him_ , and he knew just what to do to make her feel his presence. He had said _she_ was wise…if that was true then they both were.

A knock on the door distracted them and they met each other's eyes, hoping it had nothing to do with Éowyn and that she was all right. Aragorn sighed, rubbing his eyes and then growled a bit more grumpily than intended, "I am _not_ getting out of this chair." She chewed her piece of bread, a little smile appearing on her face at his 'rebellious' behavior. Instead, he called out, lifting his head, "Come in and have dinner with us if it is your wish."

They both had to gape in pleasant surprise as the door opened and Legolas walked inside, Enguina's hand wrapped in his own as he led her behind him. "Well, well!" he laughed. "I should have known we would be the only two here after such a celebration; and we made _such_ an effort!"

Arwen _and_ Aragorn both got out of their chairs to exchange hugs with the couple. Enguina held Arwen extra-long, laying her head on her shoulder, and Legolas shared the same information with Aragorn in a simple nod and a soft smile, and all was right with the world. Peace of mind was brought to them both.

" _Thank_ you," Enguina whispered in her ear, tears in her eyes. " _Thank you for everything_."

"Yes," Legolas said as Aragorn clasped his shoulder. " _Thank_ you."

"Come and sit, both of you," the man replied. "There is not much but what we have, we have to share." The four of them took seats at the table; Legolas and Enguina side by side, Aragorn on the end, and Arwen across from them.

"I am afraid," Arwen said, sighing, "that we did not have the energy to cook. I feel terrible that you came all the way over here for this meal and—"

"Please, we are happy to share it with you," Enguina said, passing a plate to Legolas. "We are a bit hungry—"

"If we had remembered to lay some food out for ourselves," Legolas interjected, "we may not have seen you until the morning. But hunger drove us here."

Enguina set her forehead on her hand, blushing, but Legolas was entirely unashamed as Aragorn smiled and shook his head. "Yes, the human body does require sustenance. That was what we were finding ourselves, though for very different reasons."

"Shall we speculate about the others?" asked Enguina, trying to turn the conversation from her embarrassment. "Gimli is probably sleeping off all the ale."

"Well, we can tell you some of it," Aragorn replied, "though we do not know where _everyone_ is at the moment. Some will have to be speculation as you said."

"Well go on," Legolas said with a grin. "We know where the dwarf is anyway."

"The most important news," Aragorn continued, "is that Éowyn and Faramir are at the Houses of Healing. Their babe, a son, was born this morning, just after dawn."

Legolas gaped at him and Enguina laughed gaily. "Oh how _wonderful_!" she exclaimed. "Have they chosen a name for him yet?"

"Folengel," Arwen said with a little smile, thinking about his precious face. "A perfectly wonderful Rohirric name."

"In their language, it means Prince of Foals," Aragorn added, and Legolas nodded, smiling.

"It _is_ perfect," he agreed.

"How is Éowyn?" Enguina asked.

"As soon as we have eaten, we are headed there to check in on her," Aragorn said. "That is if we can force our feet to stumble there when we are finished here."

"She was…very weak. The labor was strenuous, difficult," Arwen told them, and Enguina looked worried. "She was sleeping soundly when we left her with Faramir, Annî asleep in Éomer's lap in the other room. There had been so much excitement yesterday none of us could keep our eyes open."

"Oh, I missed it," Enguina sighed softly, "and she had invited me to come." Legolas reached over and slipped his hand into hers, holding it gently.

"She did?" asked Aragorn. "Well, she is probably glad you were quite busy with each other. Everyone but Gimli was there, so all of us received _very_ little sleep. I assume that either your father is asleep or walking in the gardens—"

"Erumar is probably doing the same," added Arwen.

"—yes, as they were both watching Annî during the birth with Éomer. Gimli remained at the party with his kin; Éomer said they would not permit him to leave, and _you_ two of course," Aragorn said with a smirk, "were celebrating your wedding night…and day."

"And a lovely celebration it was," Legolas said softly and though Enguina blushed, he squeezed her hand again.

"We did not expect you at all," Aragorn said. "We do apologize that we are not the best company right now. We…have had very little rest."

"Can you tell us of the rest of the party?"

"Did you stay and dance all night before the birth?" asked Enguina, leaning forward towards Arwen and laughing as she grabbed her hand.

Arwen laughed, too. "As much of it as we could."

"I _am_ sorry we did not stay longer and dance more," Enguina sighed, "but there will be other opportunities and…well—"

"We wanted very much to be alone by that time," Legolas added seriously. "Not that we were not enjoying the celebration."

Aragorn grinned at him. "When we left the Houses this morning there were _still_ men at the tables, feasting and toasting to you and singing your praises. Trust me when I say this, you have been sufficiently blessed by everyone in Minas Tirith. Blessings on you, on your marriage, on your children, on your union, on your horses, on the place you will live, on your—"

"Please, I think we comprehend, Aragorn," Legolas said, holding up a hand. "Thank you both, again, for everything you have done for us. We…could never be thankful enough—"

"No, we could not," added Enguina softly, looking at both of them. " _Thank you_."

"It was our pleasure."

"We love you both," Arwen said, "and we are so full of joy to see you happy."

"What are your plans for the next few days? Will you be traveling to Ithilien sooner or later?" Aragorn asked, biting off a piece of bread.

"To be honest," Legolas replied, "I sent a messenger to Imrahil sometime before I was taken and I had a message from him when I returned. Enguina and I are going to Belfalas for a little while, perhaps a month, and _then_ returning to Ithilien."

"By way of Minas Tirith, I hope?" asked Arwen softly. "A month, when you have been here so long, is a very long time not to see you."

"Ithilien is not too far," Legolas said, but he could see that Enguina was going to feel the separation as keenly as Arwen. "But of course we shall stop on the way. Then to Ithilien to build our home. Perhaps by then, my father will be ready to leave Minas Tirith. I was hoping he might travel with us and leave for Eryn Lasgalen from there. And perhaps we might borrow Gimli."

"Ah the Sea," Aragorn said softly, and Enguina sighed. "You will love Dol Amroth, Enguina. You will be amazed at the beauty there. Arwen and I stayed there for a short time several years ago, and Imrahil is _very_ welcoming. A good man."

"I am eager to see it with Legolas at my side," she replied. "Aragorn, I was going to ask you if we could go and see Éowyn with you tonight, but…would it be better to wait until tomorrow?"

"Yes," he answered. "She needs to rest, and you can see her just as well tomorrow as tonight." Then, he smiled. "If you are intending to leave for Dol Amroth shortly, perhaps we should roast the two of you tomorrow night at dinner, if you will allow us."

Legolas laughed. "And here, I thought you had both forgotten about that."

"No, no," said Arwen. "We really want to do it. Thranduil mentioned it before we left him today, and I think everyone is looking forward to it. Consider it a…wedding gift; something to start you out laughing at one another."

Enguina sighed and nodded. "Fine. Tomorrow night it is." She looked over at her husband's plate and rolled her eyes, pushing hers toward the center of the table. "Must I _help_ you eat that?"

"Whatever do you mean by that, my dove?" he asked, mischief in his eyes.

"Well, I can see we are not returning to our home for several _hours_."

Arwen laughed. "We did not expect to see you at all, to be honest. We expected that we might not see you, at the _very_ earliest, until tomorrow morning for breakfast."

Enguina looked at her. "Again, Arwen, we have to _eat._ "

"Do you feel different, now that you are officially wed?" asked Aragorn, eyeing both of them.

"Feel different?" Legolas asked, raising an eyebrow. "I feel as though my life has only begun."

"I _do_ feel very different," Enguina said to answer his question. "I feel like I have been reborn. I feel as though I have never understood what love really was…until now." She looked back to Aragorn and Arwen. "I…seriously knew nothing of love. I was so _wrong_ about everything. I have never been gladder that Ilúvatar has been guiding my steps. I have been praising him every moment." She looked over at Legolas and her eyes were like burning torches. That was not, however, what made him drop the bread he was holding. Instead, it was what he read in her mind, what she shared with him in that moment, and when she dipped her chin, looking out at him from half-lidded, smoldering eyes, he gripped her hand and dropped the bread onto the table.

Legolas leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I think I…am finished with my supper, Guin."

"Are you?" she asked softly, a blush on her cheeks but her voice lowered.

"Definitely…and I think I am much desiring to be alone with you right now when there are people around," he said with a sigh. Arwen laughed at his boldness as Enguina's blush deepened, and Aragorn smiled, settling his arm over the back of Arwen's chair.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening, you two."

He drew Enguina to her feet. "We would love to chat longer—"

" _Please_ , do not lie Legolas," Enguina whispered. "It does _not_ become you."

" _Will_ we see you for breakfast?" Arwen asked, leaning her chin on her hands and smiling as much as the other three.

Legolas leaned towards the table as he guided Enguina to the door with a hand on her back. "I think I would like to keep you guessing," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "On that very high note, Guin and I bid you good night. We love you both."

"We love you," Aragorn replied and as they crossed the threshold outside and the door closed behind them, they could hear the two of them begin laughing hilariously outside, Enguina chiding him for making a fool of them. Aragorn looked over at Arwen. "Do you remember the first time you looked at me that way?"

"No, but I remember the last time," she murmured sweetly, leaning over to kiss him gently.

"I was standing in the council chamber discussing the orcs fleeing across our lands from Mordor and if we should send a contingent to stop them when _you_ suddenly appeared. You were wearing a blue gown that sparkled in the light, the one that flowed about your bare feet when you walked and covered your arms with silk, and I was unable to speak when I looked upon you—you looked just as one of the Valar in the drawings of your father's study. Your hair was down and lying across your back and chest and you wore a circlet of silver on your head and a sapphire around your neck that your father had given you."

"I _do_ remember that now, when you speak of it. Five days after the wedding, yes?"

He nodded. "I remember that I forgot everything I was saying, and the only thing I could think about was going to you, touching you. I remember you telling the lords that you required my attention for an urgent matter and I felt a flash of worry until you took my hand and led me from the room." He looked confused for a moment. "I do not, however, remember the walk to the House."

"That, beloved," she whispered, leaning over to kiss his chin, "is because we never made it back to the House." He chuckled as he remembered. "I remember standing near the White Tree before the Tower _pacing._ I could _not_ get you out of my head, and I did not even _try_ to fight the desire I had for you that morning. I was struggling to decide if I should disturb you, if I had the right to do so, to interrupt, but I…wanted to be with you so… _badly._ " She swallowed, remembering the moment as clearly as though it was happening before her. "I remember asking Ilúvatar what was right, and why in the world could we not have been two normal people, where we would not have the responsibilities we had. I… _ached_ for your arms; so filled with desire that I did not know what else to do. So I…went to you. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but…I would never change it. I do not know what the Council thought, but…"

"They did not know any better. If they _did_ know, they never said two words. That was…one of the only times we made love in the Tower, was it not?" He sighed and shoved his plate back gently. "I will not say I did not enjoy it; I remember it quite clearly. But I _will_ say—"

"It was not enough time."

" _No_ ," he agreed. "It was not. It was…not the way I _wanted_ to love you. There was nowhere to lay you down, and you were trembling before I even touched you; it was difficult for you, too. No…I remember the evening much better. It was long…and slow…and there was no chance anyone would find us." He sighed again, looking into her face. "How I wish I had the energy to love you that way, right now. To lay you down as we had intended last night…before life, even _beautiful_ life, interfered."

The look they shared was more than a simple look as thoughts and feelings passed between them. They both sighed and she smiled at him. "It is time to see Éowyn, and then return here for sleep."

He nodded. "We will clean this up…later?"

"Yes," she said, and the two of them rose and he took her hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Perhaps, if one of us wakes the other in the middle of the night…"

She laughed. "Oh, wishful thinking, beloved."


	56. Chapter 56

When Arwen and Aragorn arrived at the Houses, they found that Éowyn had been moved to a more comfortable bed in a completely different room. Now that she was clean and the birth was over, she could rest more comfortably. When they entered the room, they saw Faramir asleep in a chair nearby. Their new son lay in the cradle that Faramir had made for Annî, wrapped up in cloths and held tightly, fast asleep. Éowyn was also sleeping, half-propped up by pillows.

"Come," Aragorn said softly to Arwen, leading her by the hand. She lowered her eyes and followed him to where the child lay sleeping.

Her heart clenched when she looked down upon his face, the pain as intense as it had been when she was laying curled in Aragorn's embrace upon their bed just hours ago. She forced it back as far as it would go and knelt beside the cradle. Forbidding herself to cry, she simply sat for a few moments, trying to make peace with herself, with her burning _need_ , her desires. She watched as Aragorn knelt down beside her.

He laid his hand over Folengel's body, his hand the entire size of the baby's abdomen. "Forgive me, little one," he whispered. "I did not have the strength to bless you before; the pain was too fresh in my heart. May Ilúvatar guide your steps; may you always see the love that shines in the eyes of those that will raise you. Blessings on you, son of Faramir; Ilúvatar bless you as he has blessed your father."

Arwen reached forward and brushed her fingers across his forehead, along his little nose, and down his cheeks and chin. "He is _so_ small," she whispered, her fingers gently touching his little hands. "Annî was…so much bigger than him."

Aragorn nodded. "Yes, he was not quite full term. I am very glad he was not even earlier due to the stress of her situation." His mouth moved in his sleep and Arwen's made a little 'o.'

"He is precious," she murmured, and she swallowed hard, but forced no tears to fall. She was determined to be happy now at this little one. "He has Faramir's chin but Éowyn's eyes. He barely has any hair!"

Smiling, Aragorn chuckled. "Yes, not like Annî with the shock of red hair. He will grow into his instead; perhaps it will be blonde like Éowyn's."

"Let us let him sleep," she said, tracing his face again, but now that she was looking at him, she could barely stop studying and touching his perfect face. A thought came to her then, as she was kneeling there beside him. She wondered, though she did not have an answer, if she could ever truly be _whole_ if Ilúvatar never granted her a child. She intended to be the best Tiriel _ever_ ; she would fulfill the role until the day she died, and give and nurture and love as much as she could until her heart burst. She would fill their lives with everything she had…but could _she_ be filled? Perhaps now was not the time to answer that question; it was not even time to ask it.

"Sleep well, Folengel," Aragorn said softly, and Arwen bent over to press her lips to his forehead.

The two of them rose together and made their way towards Éowyn's bed. Arwen thought she looked very uncomfortable indeed. Even in sleep her breathing was shallow; it seemed she was in pain, and there were darkening circles beneath her eyes. Arwen settled herself on the end of her bed, covering the woman's hand in her own. Éowyn's fingers were so cold, she wrapped both hands around them to warm them. She lifted her head to look at Aragorn as he drew near to Éowyn's other side.

"Aragorn," she said with concern, "her hands are like ice." He reached over and laid a hand on Éowyn's forehead.

"She _is_ warm," he said, looking worried himself.

"What does that mean?" she asked urgently. She noticed Éowyn was trembling, even in sleep.

"She should not have a fever." He lowered his hand to her throat and felt her pulse beneath his fingers, then met Arwen's eyes. "It means infection…somewhere."

Arwen's heart dropped into her toes. " _No—_ " she began, but he reached out and put his hand over hers.

"We are catching it early," he said firmly. "Take it easy; this is why we came tonight. She _will_ be fine. I need to speak to Kinna; stay with her." Aragorn left immediately, and Arwen swallowed, looking down into Éowyn's face. She remembered Thranduil's words about childbirth being so difficult; Éowyn was weaker this time than she had been with Annî, yet _she_ had expected her to do better in labor with a second child, for it to be easier.

"Arwen?"

Éowyn's voice surprised her for reasons other than being unexpected. She supposed it should not have; it was weak and filled with pain. Arwen had been right when she thought Éowyn uncomfortable. The woman blinked slowly as she looked at her, and Arwen lifted one hand to lay it on her face.

"Is the baby awake?" she asked, and Arwen shook her head.

"No," she whispered in reply. "Are you cold, Éowyn?"

She nodded, and Arwen reached to lay an extra blanket over her. "What time is it?" she asked. "It must be late, you went back to the House, yes?"

"After supper. Have you had any yet?"

She shook her head weakly. "My…knees are shaking; I ache all over."

"Tell me what hurts."

"My back," she groaned softly, and Arwen saw her eyes fill with tears. Éowyn was _not_ the type to whine about pain; in fact, she would be the one that would ignore it completely. This was serious. "No…my whole lower _body_ …" She closed her eyes. "I feel like I have no strength. I cannot even lift my head."

"Why are you sitting up?" she asked. "You should be lying down."

"I needed to feed the baby," Éowyn replied. "I wanted to hold him…it was the first time."

"Let me wake F—"

"No, let him sleep. He was so exhausted earlier."

"Éowyn—"

"No," she said again. Her face tightened and Arwen laid a hand on her forehead again. "I feel…so strange. I was tired after Annî, but this…" Her eyelids fluttered closed.

"You are not well," Arwen whispered. "You are feverish, Éowyn. You need to lie down, to rest."

Aragorn returned just then, Kinna behind him carrying a tray with a mug and some bread. Éowyn looked at him and he smiled at her, stepping over to her side. "Éowyn, how are you feeling?"

"She is in pain," Arwen said softly. She looked down into Éowyn's face again. " _Please_ , let me wake Faramir. He will be so angry if—"

"All right, all right," Éowyn muttered, and Arwen immediately rose. Aragorn laid a hand on her forehead again.

"Kinna told me you slept through dinner," he said, "so she brought you some bread to eat." She nodded as Kinna set the plate down. "Éowyn, do you feel feverish?"

"What is happening?" came Faramir's voice, seeing them standing around Éowyn's bed as he got to his feet. "Éowyn?" He immediately came to her side, taking the seat on the bed where Arwen had been. He took her hand and looked at Kinna. "Here, let me hold that for you." Arwen returned, but stood back from the bed, not wanting to be in the way.

"She needs to eat, my Lord," said the midwife. "And then she needs to drink this potent tea."

"Éowyn?" prompted Aragorn, and she nodded.

"I…feel heavy," she admitted. "I can barely lift my head, my hands."

"Did you sleep?" asked Faramir worriedly. "You need to eat this."

"Easy, Faramir," she said and then her teeth clenched. "Oh…"

"She needs to eat it so there is something on her stomach," added Aragorn. He looked back down into Éowyn's face. "I am going to draw down the blankets," he told her. "We need to make sure this is exactly what we think it is. Do not be afraid, Éowyn. Let Faramir feed you."

"What is it?" asked Faramir. "Is she all right?" He tore off a piece of bread for her and she chewed it slowly.

"A bit of infection, most likely," he said softly, and Faramir paled as Aragorn brought the blankets down. "She is going to be all right," he reassured him, "but I want to be sure." Éowyn wore a simple button-down tunic with her undergarment, and though Aragorn tried to keep her modest, he needed to see what he was doing. He unbuttoned the last few buttons on the tunic, exposing her abdomen as Kinna stepped to his side. Faramir could see his wife's legs trembling under the blanket and he gave her another piece of bread.

"Éowyn," he said gently, "are you in that much pain?" She nodded as she chewed weakly, her eyes closed; she did not want to see what they were doing. Aragorn laid his hands gently against her skin and carefully palpated her stomach and pelvic area. She hissed with pain and the muscles in her face tightened and Faramir paled even more, rubbing his fingers along her eyebrows.

"Kinna, here," he said, moving so the woman could do the same. "Swelling, yes?"

Kinna nodded. "You are right, my Lord. Eru be praised that we caught it this early." Aragorn nodded, agreeing as Kinna reached up to touch Éowyn's shoulder. "You are going to be fine, milady. The mug holds a mixture of relief and medicine. It should kill the infection quickly."

"It is _not_ going to taste good," Aragorn told her flatly, carefully covering her shivering body with blankets again. "But it will help with the pain." He lifted his eyes to Faramir and said pointedly, "And she needs to drink it every three hours until the fever is gone." Éowyn had not even heard him, but Faramir nodded.

" _Thank Ilúvatar_ ," she whispered, her voice practically a groan as she swallowed more bread. "You know what I could really use?"

"What?" pleaded Faramir, hoping to do anything to ease her.

"Potent liquor…" she muttered, and Aragorn laughed as Faramir kissed her forehead.

"That is my girl," he whispered to her.

"Perhaps when the infection is gone," Aragorn said with a smile, and he stepped back from the bed to give her some space to breathe. In the meantime, he reached over to take one of Arwen's hands, uncurling the fingers that were digging into her arm in her worry for Éowyn. He did not say anything, just held it. Kinna slipped from the room and left the four of them alone.

"Where is Annî?" Éowyn asked softly.

"Éomer took her back to the house for dinner and bedtime," Faramir replied, and she nodded.

When Éowyn had finished the bread, Faramir took the mug from the nearby table where Kinna had placed the tray. He held it to her mouth, and as soon as Éowyn took a sip and the hot liquid hit the back of her throat, she gagged, nearly retching as she choked on the foul taste. Faramir leaned her forward, rubbing her back as she coughed, tears in her eyes from her body's reaction.

"You need to drink it, Éowyn," Aragorn said and she shook her head, her face pale.

"Yes," Faramir agreed. "You need it, or the infection will spread and—"

"Ugh…there is no other way?" she groaned, her hand falling to her abdomen; there was too much pressure sitting this way. Faramir leaned her back against the pillows and she watched as Aragorn shook his head.

"No, I am afraid not."

 _Choke_ it down she did. Gagging on it every few sips, she finally drank the whole mug, feeling simply awful with it floating around inside her. She looked as though she was going to be sick, and Faramir rubbed her back gently, trying to help her keep the liquid down.

"I _hate_ you," she whined at Faramir. " _Both_ of you." Aragorn took that to mean himself, and Faramir just chuckled softly.

"Well, at least you can lie down now," he told her, "and rest." Aragorn turned his head to look down to Folengel, whose face was screwing up to wail.

"Perhaps not quite yet," Aragorn said. "Someone is awake."

Folengel cried out then, and it was clear exactly what he wanted.

Éowyn turned her head and found Arwen. "I need you," she said softly, and Arwen immediately moved around the bed to sit on her other side, taking her hand. "Can you stay for a little while?" she asked. "Just till the baby is fed and I…sleep again?" She wanted them with her so terribly she could not explain her sadness at them leaving her alone or at being asleep while she was awake. She would have never been able to make them understand, but thankfully, she did not have to as Arwen nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, and then she clenched her teeth again, tightening her grip on Faramir's hand.

He did not want to leave her side, and he glanced back to Aragorn. "Would you mind bringing him to her? I—" Aragorn nodded, understanding the man's dilemma. He reached down and gently lifted Folengel from the cradle. At the touch, the boy stopped whimpering and cracked his eyes to see who had lifted him. Aragorn smiled at him.

"You…have beautiful eyes," he whispered, and then reached down to lay him in Faramir's arms.

"No, you hold him," Faramir said. "It is fine if he is quiet. He will be content for a few minutes."

Aragorn nodded, staring down into his little face. He opened his mouth and whispered something none of them heard and then smiled at him again, touching his face gently with the edges of his fingers.

Arwen's eyes were fixed on him, and Éowyn knew there was something going on between them that she did not quite understand. But she did not have to; she knew very well that the whole situation might bring them pain, even if they were happy for them, and she lifted her hand, even weakly, to brush Arwen's cheek. She could see the tears in the elf's eyes and Arwen looked down at her, catching her hand and holding it.

"Forgive us," she whispered, and then she looked at Faramir, "please…"

"What is there to forgive?" he asked seriously. He avoided mentioning the baby altogether; the memory was painful for them, too. "You are here because you love us. We are so grateful."

"Yes," Éowyn whispered. " _Grateful_. Thank you."

Folengel was hungry, and soon grew tired of staring at Aragorn's face. The man laughed as his face scrunched up again and then he did lean over to lay him in Éowyn's arms after Faramir had unbuttoned her tunic. Faramir kept his arm under hers to steady her as Folengel curled his fingertips against her breast, sucking hungrily. Aragorn watched Éowyn's face, glad to see that the tension in it had eased a bit; her pain was lessening. She laid her head back, grateful for Faramir's assistance, and she tilted her head to look at Arwen's face.

"When he is finished, will you hold him?" Arwen clearly hesitated to respond, and Éowyn sighed softly, closing her eyes. "I wish you would…and sing him a lullaby." She squeezed the elf's hand. "I know this must be so hard for you, but you have…such a beautiful voice and such a heart to love."

 _A heart to love…Tiriel_ … Arwen felt her heart tighten at her words, but she knew she was right. She _wanted_ to love their son as much as she did Annî. Éowyn opened her eyes and Arwen met hers as she nodded.

"Yes," she whispered back. "I…I will."

* * *

The darkness of night surrounded Legolas when he unexpectedly woke. Enguina's nails were piercing his chest, her hands clenching as the other was digging into her own palm. Her hair was plastered against his hand as her face lay upon it, her brow soaked with sweat, her voice crying out in his head. They had fallen asleep to the light of candles, and now the room was in darkness—they had burned down and out. For one fleeting moment, he thought of leaping up to light new ones before he woke her, but she was already tangled in his embrace as she had been after their long love-making, one of her lovely legs between his, one of his arms around her back to keep her close.

Instead of waking her as he usually did, he opened his mind to hers and pressed as much love and light into her dream as he possibly could, calling her name in his head. _Guin, Guin…I am here! I am right here with you! Open your eyes and see me. You are not in that dream, that place with_ him! _You are with me!_

Her muscles began to twitch, her body trembling. Usually, that meant she was awake or that she might be coming to the most awful part of the dream—and he knew only too well now exactly what that awfulness was. He pulled her even more closely into him; perhaps that was not the best idea, but it was the only one he had. Forcing as much of himself through their bond as he possibly could, he called to her aloud as well, shaking her.

 _Legolas?_ He felt her reaching for him through their connection, but it was as if she were digging through muddy water—she could not find him.

" _Legolas_!"

Enguina came to, rising from the deep well of the dream, his name leaving her lips as a scream, her nails drawing blood from his skin and hers. His presence swamped over her like a wave she could not fight back even had she wanted to, his mind invading hers to the point of smothering her fear. Her whole body was shaking against him, blinking her burning eyes and meeting his in the darkness. There was very little moonlight that could be seen in the room, it was a cloudy night, but she found his blue eyes and she began to breathe—deep, gasping breaths—to beat back the terror that had overtaken her for those few moments.

He rested his forehead against hers, her breast heaving against his chest as he held her tight around her back. "Shh…" he whispered soothingly. "I am here…and everything is all right, my dove."

Tears fell on her face and she pulled herself even more tightly against him, unable to withdraw her hands from between their chests. The hand on her back released her to reach for the blanket, and she whimpered. "No, _please_ …do not let go!"

He drew her into him and sat them up so he could really hold her, pressing her face between his chin and chest. She was half in-and-out of his lap again, and she was shivering so hard that he dragged his hand along her back to try and warm her up even further, rocking her gently.

"You are safe, my love," he told her. "You are safe."

"I know," she answered, teeth chattering, as she tried to collect herself, to make the memories fade more quickly. She was in his arms, _his_ arms, her _husband's arms_ , the arms of the one who cherished her, the one who had shown her what real love was. Yes, she _knew_ him. It still took some time, but her tears subsided. Legolas slid one hand over to the blanket and pulled it around her and over her, tucking it about her against the chill of the dark.

His fingers were stroking her hair, and they were both quiet for some time before she found her voice again. "I…do not know what brought that on," she whispered. "I do not understand what happened. Everything has been…so _wonderful_. Why—"

"Nothing had to happen," he said gently. "Sometimes the night terror will simply come. You are safe; you are with me."

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. "When I fell asleep to the rhythm of your heart," she whispered, "there were candles burning."

"They went out," he admitted. "I…never thought to pay any attention to them and I was not thinking of _them_ when we made love earlier."

"I want them to be lit," she whispered, a tremor in her voice, "but I do not want you to stop holding me." She felt him shift and she tucked her elbows in, leaning against him even more. " _Please!_ " Her plea caught him off guard and he froze with the terror in her voice. She had been begging him to release her all this time, now, she could not be without him.

"Shh, Guin," he soothed her, "I am not letting go. I am only moving."

He felt her embarrassment at her exclamation and she tried to slow her breathing. "I-I cannot be without your arms right now."

"Stay still against me," he suggested. Letting go of her back with his one arm, he carefully took the hand that was digging into her palm and stretched out her tight fingers, crisscrossing his fingers through hers. She looked down at their joined hands and saw the blood beneath her nails—and then caught sight of his chest. Tears sprang to her eyes as she saw how deeply her nails were embedded in his skin.

" _Oh…Legolas…_ "

"Forget it," he urged. "You can hold me as tight as you like. I am _yours_ , Guin." He released her other hand and gently helped her remove the nails, trying not to wince. She straightened out her cramping fingers and laid them on the little crevices she had left in his chest.

" _Holding_ you is not _clawing_ you," she muttered, stroking her fingers along the holes.

"It is fine."

"I wish I could change how I react to the dream. I am glad I was so close to you," she whispered. "I cannot think about hurting you like that, tossing you from our bed. If…if it had gone any further—"

"But it did not, Guin. You were safe in my arms, even if it was unexpected."

"Everything…" she said, her voice catching as she spoke, "everything had been so beautiful. The wedding, our time alone, our love-making… _tonight's_ love-making, so long and powerful and…it was the most wonderful experience, to fall asleep in your arms, my _skin_ to your skin… _Why_?" He knew she was not asking him, but instead Ilúvatar. "Why did he have to come tonight? Why did he have to come when we were lying together, where he was clearly not wanted?"

Legolas could not answer that. Instead, he returned a hand underneath the blanket and laid it against her back, her bare skin. His hand was so warm that she laid her head down upon his shoulder, relaxing a bit more into him. The nightmare needed to leave their midst, and he wanted to try drawing her away from it, distracting her.

"I love it when you press your skin to mine," he murmured. "If I could, I would never be clothed around you again, and I would encourage you to press yourself to me as often as you like."

She gasped at his words as her breath caught and she half-laughed. "You are too much."

"I was being perfectly serious. I _love_ the feel of your skin on my skin, the way your hands stroke my chest, my back." He pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed. "It feels so perfect."

Enguina was silent for a moment and then she said so softly he almost did not catch the words, "Can we make love again…right now?"

He rubbed his lips against her forehead, feeling the heat from her face; she was embarrassed by her own request. "No…I would not make love to you right now, my dove. I do not want to chase away memories of him like that; loving you is _sacred_. He does not belong here. Let Ilúvatar chase him, and when he is long gone and far away we will love." Legolas slipped a hand around her front and laid it against her abdomen. "And you and I are not used to love-making. You will be sore if we are joined too much. You need time to recover."

He felt her face grow warm against his skin and her fingers touched the marks on his chest again. "You are so right. We…loved each other three times yesterday," she said softly. He chuckled and kissed her neck.

"Four."

"Four?"

"Four." He smiled. "I was thinking last night, as you were trying to breathe when you were lying against my chest—"

" _Legolas,_ " she groaned, " _please_ …you are making fun of me."

"I am not; I was trying to give you an idea of _when_ I was thinking." But he _was_ teasing her, and she knew it.

"I…" he felt her face grow hot again, "I think _you_ had a difficult time breathing, too."

He laughed. "And so I did, but you did not notice, did you?"

" _You_ were not lying on _my_ chest."

"I think that is not necessary," he said, lowering his voice. "I think we are doing perfectly wonderful without my being anywhere above you." He rubbed his fingers along her spine. "I was thinking that I should bathe you this morning, as you wanted. That was to be my offer when you woke."

She swallowed, just imagining Legolas running his hands over her body with a bar of soap in his hands. What had Éowyn said? Bath time with Faramir was a favorite moment of hers? How could it _not_ be? "I…do not know if that could be considered a bath, Legolas."

He smiled against the skin of her throat. "I would be willing to find out if we _could_ keep it a bath. Are you not so willing?"

"I thought," she said, lifting her head to kiss his temple, "that you were afraid I would be sore."

He lifted his head to look in her eyes. "Is twelve hours not enough time to recover?" he teased her gently. "Moreover, _I_ was trying to think of _bathing_ you. You would not have any reason to be sore." But his eyes sparkled, and she rolled hers.

" _I_ think that you have successfully rid me of the thought of that nasty dream." She pressed her cheek against his and they leaned their heads together. "In the morning, we should see Éowyn—"

"Mmm…after we bathe."

"—and then we should talk to your father."

"Bathing would be very nice, too," he murmured.

She continued to ignore his suggestion. "And I would like to have a few moments of quiet with Arwen," she added thoughtfully, her voice quiet.

"That means you shall be speaking of me," he deduced easily. "Which means, you owe me."

"What? No." She felt him stroke her spine again and her skin tingled.

"Bath time. It will be wonderful."

"Why do I let you do this to me?"

"You secretly _yearn_ for me to bargain with you. And you love to feel my fingers against your head, beneath your hair…you _want_ me to wash it, and I want to. _Please_." She sighed and let herself cave against him, and then she heard _him_ sigh as her skin pressed against him. Enguina had to smile, and he drew her with him back down onto her side, their skin still touching. "I cannot get enough of your skin upon mine."

"I noticed," she teased, smiling. "Arwen told me you would not be able to stop touching me."

"Well," he admitted, "she was _certainly_ right about that. Yes, they were right about so many things." He stroked his fingers through her hair and rested his fingers against the back of her neck as his other hand pulled the blanket over him as well as her. He lay onto his back and she pressed herself into his side, winding her leg between his and pressing her cheek to his chest. "Rest now, and dream about the morning," he whispered.

She laid her hand against his chest, touching the marks she had made again. "I will wash these in the morning, too," she said softly as she closed her eyes. "Thank you, Legolas," she whispered. "Thank you for being my husband, my love, my protector.

He bent his head and brushed his lips to her hair. "I love and adore you. Sleep well now."

* * *

Legolas held her tightly in his arms as Enguina wept into his chest, harder than she had since the day they had sat in the mountains and she had told him the true story of the assault. His head was leaned back against the side of the mattress, Enguina lying against him as they sat upon the floor. This was where she had fallen from the bed when she had hit him square in the chest three, possibly even five times—he had not counted. She had been physically sick, and then he had gathered her up into his arms, even as she begged him not to touch her. Such a contradiction from three hours before!

Yes, the nightmare had returned with vengeance, this time much worse. He had not even been able to wake her; she had spent more than five minutes in the worst part of the dream. He had tried everything, but it was so embedded in her mind that she had been trapped. He knew she had, because she had been screaming and begging with the darkness, crying out 'no' and 'please' and he knew only too well where she had been—lying beneath him in that glade, listening to the filthy names he had called her, his hot breath upon her skin. It made him sick just to think of it, his precious Guin, trapped in that nightmare over and over again. Again, he felt the unmistakable urge to kill Bragolaur himself for what he had done to her.

Her hands, no, her _body_ was trembling against his chest. She had _finally_ given into him; now she lay limp against him, her face buried in his neck, her tears pouring down his breast. One of his arms was wrapped around her, the other prevented her hands from traveling to her own skin and scratching at it. Oh, he knew only too well where her hands would go, and he would not let her mark herself anymore. No, it was time for more healing, the cleansing he had promised her. Whatever he could do to be rid of him was what he wanted for her.

"My love, my love," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, "I am going to carry you now." He maneuvered her carefully when she did not respond and stood, bearing her up in his arms and then into the hall. He shoved the bath door open with his bare foot and carried her inside. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was put her down, but there was no way to fill the tub with her still in his arms. "I have to set you down, Guin." Using his foot again, he dragged a towel to the floor and then lowered her to it, leaning her back against the tub. Her tears had stalled out for a moment, and as he reached over her head to turn on the faucet, she leaned her head back against the tub and her hands moved to her chest, her collarbone, beginning to close around her skin near the places where Bragolaur had made his marks on her.

" _Legolas_ …" she whimpered, "not _now_ …"

"Yes, this very moment," he insisted gently, noticing her gripping hands. "Let me cleanse you from this dream." He drew her hands away from her own skin, holding them in his own, preventing her from tearing at her skin again. "Let me cleanse you from him, make you feel whole again."

He said no more, neither did she, but soon the water was ready. With tender arms he scooped her up and set her in the water, letting her soak for a few moments as he readied a few towels, a cloth to wash her, and the soap. She was watching as he knelt down beside the tub and cupped her face in his hand.

"This is…too much, Legolas," she told him, her voice soft and hurt. "Just leave me here. You should not have to clean me up. I should not be so weak. You do not have to—"

"My deepest desire," he said, "is to cleanse you from every thought and feeling of him. Your body is mine, just as mine is yours. Not a single part of you belongs to him, and you should not feel him on your skin. Let me wash him away, and let you feel _me_ instead."

He first reached up and gathered her hair onto her head, taking the strands and tying it up gently so it was out of his way and off her neck. Then, soaking the cloth in the water, he rubbed the soap onto it, making sure it was good and lathered. He reached into the water and drew out her arm, holding her hand in his own. With deliberate slowness, he cleaned her fingers and hand, drawing the cloth between them and beneath her nails where she had dug into her own skin and his last night. Again, slowly, he began moving up her arm. He raised his eyes to her, found her eyes studying him, and then he shook his head at her, his words clear in her mind.

 _This is not good enough for me, Guin_. _Damn the rag between us!_

Legolas dropped the cloth on the floor and rubbed his hands along the soap bar. She watched him as he brought his soap-covered hand back to her wet wrist and began cleaning her skin gently with his own fingers and hands—again, slowly and deliberately. Soon, he had rested her hand on the edge of the tub and was dragging both hands along her arm, underneath all the way to the pit and then above, up along her shoulder to her neck, soaping as he went.

Being on his knees and leaning over partway into the tub, he was so close to her face that he tilted her chin gently towards him to kiss her softly, his hands working along her neck where the bites had been, focusing on the areas he _knew_ there had been a mark from him, all the way up behind her ears. When he drew back, her eyes were closed at the pleasure of his touch, her voice now softly saying his name in his head.

"Let me see the other," he whispered, and she lifted it from the water for him. He soaped his hands anew and began with her right arm, working his fingers between hers and his nails under hers and then carefully massaging and cleaning the same way he had her other arm, spending some time beneath her arm where he had bitten her and drawn blood, coming back to her neck. His fingers gently maneuvered along her collarbone and he felt her swallow, her breath catch. He knew very well what he was doing to her, what every movement of his hands would provide…and enflame.

He moved down the tub and reached into the water, drawing out one of her long legs and setting her foot on the edge. Rubbing soap suds into his hands, he dragged his soapy fingers between her toes and her jaw clenched with pleasure. She thought it might tickle when his hands stroked along the bottom of her foot, but the feel of his fingers on her was so sensual that there was no tickling to be found, just raw, open nerve endings that awakened at his touch as his hands worked their way slowly up her ankle then calf and on towards her thigh. When he reached her hip, he lowered her leg back into the water and reached for the other. Her pulse was increasing with his continued caressing.

Even with her heart racing, she was so relaxed when he returned to her neck that when he had her lean forward so he could follow along to the back of her neck, she might have drowned in the water had she not caught herself before her head fell forward and her face went under. He must not have noticed, so focused on erasing every imaginary feeling on her skin except his hands. If that had been his only objective, he could have already stopped as there was barely any memory left in her head of Bragolaur at the moment. Her thoughts were now consumed by the feel of Legolas's hands upon her skin.

There was _nothing_ like this—the soap made his hands slippery as he stroked her flesh, making the memory fade as quickly as the dream had come upon her. The way it felt was indescribable. How could one describe the erasing of such filth with a tender touch? No scraping, no scratching at skin, no assault on her senses. Just _him_ ; his love pouring through her mind, the way _he_ felt as his hands stroked the soap along her skin. Could she possibly feel this way forever? Could he never, _ever_ stop?

 _Ilúvatar, please! Cleanse me with his touch! Make me never remember that filth again! I am clean! I am pure! I am whole! I am his!_

Dipping his hand into the water, he brought the heat up her back to wash the soap free from her skin. Scooting over directly behind her now, he took her hair down from the pins and ribbon he had used to tie it up, and tilted her head back to pour water over her scalp. She could feel it in his hands—the amount of delight he took in washing her hair, soaping her head and letting her feel the pads of his fingers along her neck as well. Her body went to mush beneath his expert hands, her every nerve relaxed; she had no idea how she was remaining even _close_ to upright but she did, supporting herself with her hands so that he could rinse the soap from her hair.

She was so pliable in that moment, when he had finished her hair and drew her backward again, that he simply slipped his hands beneath her arms and sat her a bit more upright against the back of the tub, leaning her now wet head back against his shoulder. His soapy hands were along her shoulders again, traveling to her collarbone and throat when she turned her head just enough to press her lips to his neck. He remained focused on what he was doing, even as her lips pressed again and again to sensitive areas beneath and behind his ear, and his hands lingered above her breasts for only a moment before he began caressing her. Her breath huffed out into his ear.

"Is he washed away?" he whispered. "Is he gone, my dove?"

She felt almost as though he was speaking of something she did not know anything about. _Who_? Was there ever anyone but him, Legolas? There would never _be_ anyone but him!

" _I-I feel n-nothing but you_ ," she murmured back, stumbling over her words with how much utter bliss she felt. " _This is heaven, Legolas_ … _you are heaven…you know just where to_ —" she gasped and nearly writhed against the side of the tub. " _Oh…_ " _Legolas!_

She felt him turn his face against hers, smiling softly, knowing very well how moved she was by the pleasure of his touch, the feel of this bath he was giving her. "This…" he sighed into her ear, " _this_ is what I wanted to do the night you were crying in this tub and I sat tearing through my fingers outside. _This_ is what I wanted you to feel— _me_ , _only_ _me_. I wanted to erase him, to make you feel the love I have for you, my desire to please you. This is what you _deserve_ : to be _cherished_ , and _loved_ …Ilúvatar, _how I love you_!"

His voice was hoarse as he whispered the last words, his chest now pressing more into her back and shoulders as he leaned forward, reaching his hands now past her breasts towards her ribs, her abdomen, freshly covered with new soap, stretching beneath the water as his lips now pressed kisses to the skin of her shoulder and collarbone. She was alive beneath him, and her hands slowly rose out of the water to catch around the back of his head, to hold him to her neck and feel his lips and tongue behind her ear in that _way_ that he had. His hands came back up her body and her breath left her once more as he soaped along her breasts again.

No, there was no way to _ever_ get enough of this, of him. She would never know what she had done to deserve a love so wonderful, so powerful it could move heaven and earth, so beautiful that it would make her feel as though she was one with the dawn. What he had sought to do with this bath he had accomplished—she did not even remember who or what was supposed to be erased, could not even call the name to her mind to wish it away. There was only one name and one thought on her mind as she leaned her head back even further, murmuring in a breathy whisper.

" _Legolas, Legolas, come to me…_ "

He was sliding into the tub with her in seconds.


	57. Chapter 57

" _Thranduil_!"

It was a bright, beautiful day in Minas Tirith; the sun had come up in all of its glory and the White Tree and its fountain glittered beneath the sun's rays. Erumar had found Thranduil here this morning and the two of them had walked together. They had returned here as well having nothing better to do. Upon discovering the King's House empty this morning, Thranduil had suggested finding the excellent muffins Legolas had mentioned to him some days ago. They had been to get some breakfast there, stopped to surprise Éowyn with them as a gift, and then had returned to the garden where they had sat down near the fountain.

Which is where Legolas and Enguina happened to come upon them as they were meandering about looking for them, catching them at just the moment where Thranduil had created a wave in the fountain and splashed Erumar and she had shrieked at him. The two of them were soon on their feet, Erumar out of indignation and Thranduil in trepidation of retaliation. He leaned away from her and she _did_ strike back, splashing at him with cold water towards his back. He yelled and laughed, leaping away from her but she did get him at least with some of it.

"That is _cold!_ " he laughed.

"Do you think so?" she said, brushing water from her arm. "You simply _had_ to—"

"Good morning!" laughed Enguina as she practically danced from behind the hedgerows, leading Legolas with her. Erumar and Thranduil both looked away from each other and delight came over their faces upon seeing the two of them.

"Ah, the newlyweds!" Thranduil said as Erumar closed the distance between her and Enguina and hugged her, Enguina still laughing. Legolas released his wife and found himself in his father's embrace, much to his surprise.

"Erumar, you are all wet!" cried Enguina, holding her back from her.

"I was—"

"Never mind, we saw it all!" she teased and Erumar blushed just a bit at her words, but Enguina ignored it. "We heard that you both had an exciting time yesterday watching Annî for the new parents."

"Yes, yes," said Thranduil, "until Éomer showed up, but by then we could not leave until the little one was born." He clasped his son's shoulder. "How are you both this beautiful morning?"

"We could not be better, Adar," replied Legolas and Erumar stepped back so Enguina could lean over and hug Thranduil. "Marriage is wonderful so far. We have not even quarreled yet."

Thranduil laughed, releasing Enguina. "What would you possibly have to quarrel about? You agree on nearly everything!"

"Oh, Thranduil," chided Enguina, rolling her eyes. "You two seemed as though you were having fun this morning."

"I thought Erumar looked thirsty," Thranduil replied in a very serious voice, and when Enguina and Legolas burst out laughing, Erumar shoved his arm.

"As if they believed that, or _you_ for that matter."

"Sooo," Enguina said, stretching out the word and grabbing Erumar's hand, "have you seen Folengel yet?"

"Yes, we have," Thranduil replied and Legolas saw a light in his eyes. "It has been _so many years_ since I have seen so small a babe. He is tiny—"

"And precious," added Erumar. "He has _beautiful_ eyes."

"He was a bit early, so he is quite small," Thranduil continued. "We saw him again this morning when we stopped on our way back from trying some of those delicious muffins you told me about."

"Ooo," groaned Enguina, "what I would not _give_ —"

"We have two more," Erumar said, laughing at the delight in Enguina's eyes. "Why not sit near the fountain and enjoy them?" Instead, all four of them ended up seated in the grass beside the fountain. As they were eating, Legolas looked over to his father.

"You saw Éowyn this morning, then. How is she? Aragorn said last night that she had a difficult labor."

"You had dinner at the King's House last night?" asked Erumar softly. "Now I wish I had come."

"It was brief," Enguina admitted. "The two of them were exhausted, and they were off to see Éowyn again as soon as we had left. Aragorn was more tired than I have ever seen him." She touched Erumar's hand. "And you needed the rest, too, I am sure." Erumar said nothing to that aside from looking away, and Thranduil looked back to Legolas after watching their brief exchange.

"Éowyn is yet weak," he said. "It was not a long labor, but it was difficult for her. Faramir explained that last evening Elessar had found an infection, but she had no fever this morning, so whatever they have been giving her has helped."

"An infection?" asked Legolas. "So soon after labor?"

"Yes, but they discovered it early. If left untreated or unnoticed, she could have died."

Enguina looked horrified. "But surely she is all right now?"

Thranduil nodded. "We spoke with her this morning. She would be delighted to have you visit her; I am certain of it. Faramir is about ready to race around with his little boy and show everyone he possibly can that he has another child."

"Annî is also a delight," Erumar said, smiling at them. "She could hardly contain her excitement over having a brother."

"We intended to visit them as soon after we were done speaking with you," Legolas replied, taking a bite of his muffin. "What made you find these this morning? Were you at the King's House?"

"Well, no," he said. "When we arrived it was empty, and we did not want to help ourselves. We thought we might find Elessar when we went to the Houses, but they were not there either."

Enguina frowned. "Perhaps they went riding together. It has been some time since they traveled to the Anduin." She looked over at Legolas. "Do you think they will return for dinner?"

He lifted his shoulders. "Who can say? I suppose it depends on if they went for a ride or they went for quiet." He looked to his father. "I did not think of it yesterday when I spoke with them, nor did I see it in their faces or manner when they spoke of the child. Were they—"

"Can one be unaffected, Legolas?" asked Erumar softly, looking down. "They were quiet."

"Yes," agreed Thranduil, "but Éowyn spoke this morning of them holding the baby and Arwen singing to him, so…I would imagine that they are as well as they can be."

"So soon," Enguina murmured, sorrow on her face. "I am ashamed that I never thought to how they were feeling last night. Such a friend I am!"

"Stop that," Erumar replied. "They would not have wanted anyone to mention it. That is a private grief, and neither of you are to blame when you have much to celebrate, to be happy for."

Legolas nodded and then gave a smile to his father. "So I shall move on, to try to keep the mood a bit lighter; Enguina and I have something that we would like to ask you—"

" _Both_ of you," Enguina said softly, "if you would be so inclined."

"What is it?" asked Thranduil warily.

"We are going to be leaving for Dol Amroth for a month or so to celebrate our marriage and spend some time together by the Sea. Even in a day or so, if we can manage it. On our return, we were going to stop here to visit for a short while and then be in Ithilien before the middle of July. We…have intentions of working on our home and—"

"What we were wondering was if you would like to come and help us," Enguina interrupted, looking at Thranduil. "You have a long journey home, and we thought that perhaps you would like to spend a bit more time here with us before you return."

"Yes," Legolas added. "We wanted also to extend the invitation to you, Erumar. Enguina said that you are a very clever designer, and we would love for you to stay as long as you like." Thranduil and Erumar stared at them for a few moments, a bit speechless. Legolas and Enguina looked back at them, growing more awkward by the moment. "Then again—"

"No, no," said Thranduil, "this would be a perfect opportunity to spend more time with the two of you. What brought me pause was that I cannot understand why you would not wish to be _alone_ out there. Again, you are, as they say, newlyweds. Most choose to be alone when they can be."

Enguina blushed and Legolas grinned. "We are inviting Gimli as well before he travels to the Caves once the fourth level is rebuilt. We can send word to Eryn Lasgalen and perhaps other elves will join us before the winter; you would not have to journey back alone."

Enguina reached out and covered Erumar's hand again. "And you are welcome to stay with us as long as you like. We are more than happy to have you."

Erumar swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "I do not think you can—"

"It has been settled between us already," Legolas said, looking at her. "There will be no further discussion about it unless you decide to leave us at a time of your own choosing."

" _Hopefully_ ," Thranduil said, interrupting softly, "to see the Greenwood at some point."

She could not speak, but Erumar nodded in reply. Enguina smiled and looked away from her tear-filled eyes. "So, it is settled then? You will come as well, Thranduil?"

"Why miss it?" he asked. "I would be more than happy to help you build your home. I will come, but most especially if the dwarf attends. He is an excellent companion…and rather amusing."

Enguina and Legolas laughed. "You can be sure that Gimli will be there," he replied. "Now, we are finished with our muffins, shall we go to see the new babe? I am sure we would be welcome."

"We will walk that way with you if you would like the company," Thranduil offered, "and stop in the stables on our way down to see if Asfaloth and Brego are there. We certainly would not want the King and Queen to find themselves missing."

"You are more than welcome to come with us," Legolas replied, "even if you have already seen the child. I am certain that he will have many more admirers in the coming days."

"I cannot _wait_ to see the baby," said Enguina as they got to their feet. Legolas reached over and took her hand, and the four of them went off towards the sixth level.

* * *

Aragorn listened to Arwen breathe. It was easy and slow, so different from what it had been only an hour before at the end of their love-making. He had settled her atop him; he found she rested without difficulty this way when they were here, and it was effortless to hold her tightly until her trembling— _their_ trembling—eased. Even though he knew she loved the touch of the grass beneath her skin, he enjoyed the simple weight of her against his chest, his body, and the way her cheek laid upon his skin near his shoulder, her long hair flowing down her back and touching him and falling onto the ground. He loved that they could lie this way and that it was comfortable for both of them, her hands on his arms or shoulders, her feet and legs entwined with his. Every part of him held her, supported her, and he _liked_ that. He felt that he was made for it.

He could see her face from where she lay against him, her lips slightly parted in sleep, her eyes looking off across the Anduin. He lifted his hand from tracing through her hair and touching her head to gently stroke along her ear with no intention of waking her. Studying her was his objective at this hour; he was unsure of the reason he was awake. By all accounts it made no sense when they were exhausted and awake most of the night with Éowyn and speaking to Faramir.

No, they had _needed_ this respite today. Last night had been a difficult night, no matter the amount of denial they had been through trying to pretend that they were all right. Faramir had been very understanding, and Éowyn was as well, though far more of her effort it seemed went to push them _out_ of comfort. Arwen _had_ sung for Folengel last night at Éowyn's request, and it had been so soft and soothing that Éowyn had rested well, too…and it had broken Aragorn's heart. Though Arwen had sung as an outpouring of love for the child, there was no doubt that there had been pain as well. No matter how he had tried to bury his feelings as she had been singing, there was no hiding from her, not when her own feelings were so raw. It struck him in such a terrible way, as it seldom had these past few months working so hard to keep them both living, that he had been forced to slip from the room until the song had ended. These first few weeks were going to be challenging, and as even more well-wishers were to come for Éowyn and Faramir, more would look to them as they always had with the same wondering eyes and thoughts. Aragorn wished they simply would not look, would not think, but there was no way to make them stop or understand.

Therefore, he had suggested they come here today to be utterly alone, just the two of them and Ilúvatar, to escape from the City's eyes and thoughts and people. They had spent some time enjoying the beautiful day and the ride and then they traveled to their favorite spot beside the River. They had prayed again about many things, praise for all the good that had happened, blessings for the newlyweds and the new baby, and then strength for this trial they continually faced. Aragorn had planned nothing, had no intention for the day at all except to be alone, to make peace with their restless hearts, some simple time together at the river. However, he had found himself desiring to demonstrate his love for her physically, to love on her and touch her. He told her a hundred times a day both aloud and mentally of his love for her, but this was different. The feeling had overcome him as he stroked her face, and he had thought back to their words months ago when they had come together after her illness—that she was afraid she would have a motive for loving him instead of loving him because she wanted to. He had thought long and hard about those words, and he was certain that was _not_ what he was doing, what he wanted.

Gently dragging his fingertips across her cheek, he closed his eyes, studying her face with them as he always did. The hand on her right side that held her across her back traced gently along every rib until he reached the sensitive skin beneath her arm which he followed to her shoulder blade and then to her neck. He gathered her hair by feel—having done it so many times—and swept it slowly aside so he could continue to touch her, taking his hand slowly along every vertebrae in her back as far down as he could reach. His hand came back up, finally ending somewhere in her hair, his fingertips brushing the very tip of her ear over and over again, but so slowly, as though time had stopped and he was frozen in a repeat of the moment.

What had begun with stroking her face had become undressing her and himself and then had progressed to an hour and longer of making one another feel cherished. He still had no idea where they had found the strength to enjoy and please each other so long, but they had, and now he had woken after only an hour of rest. He _knew_ she had felt how much he loved her in every press of his lips to her skin, in every touch of his fingertips. She was the greatest blessing in his life, would be forever, and no matter _what_ —Council be _damned_ , everyone's expectations be _damned_ —he would never allow anything to come between what they felt for one another. He had lived every day since he was twenty years old for her love, to be worthy of it, to be blessed to be part of her world. He wanted _life_ with her more than he wanted a child with her, and though he could not tell her that at the moment, not with the grief as fresh as it was, he knew in the depth of his heart it was true.

He felt her body shift, felt her lift her head and press her lips to his breast, and then her fingers slipped from his arm to touch his jaw, his cheek, his temple, where she found his face wet with tears. She did not speak or ask him what had happened or why he was crying. This was them, their unspoiled love for one another, and in celebration of that love they often lost hold of their emotions. He could have been thinking of anything, but she _knew_ because they were so connected in moments like these. His thoughts were on her warmth; she was so _warm_ against him, so full of life. He wanted this moment to last forever—of quiet, of just her and him together, alone in their completeness, in their embrace of love where the world fell away and everything made sense.

* * *

Asfaloth and Brego walked shoulder to shoulder, bumping against each other as they walked behind their two favorite people in the world. Brego, the younger, leaned over and grabbed the side of Asfaloth's neck in his teeth and the grey threw up his head and tried to bring it down on top of Brego's. The bay snorted and yanked away, coming back to snap at him again, and the two of them tried to grab each other simultaneously, dragging their reins from the couple's hands.

" _Brego_ ," said Aragorn, reaching between the two of them to punch the horse in the shoulder. Brego pulled his head away from Asfaloth, and Arwen laid a hand on Asfaloth's forehead.

"Must we separate you two?" she asked the grey, and Brego gave a long snort and then shoved Aragorn with his head.

"You had all day to play together," he said sternly. "The middle of the stable is _not_ the place."

Another long snort; this one from Asfaloth. Aragorn rolled his eyes as he turned forward and collected Arwen's hand in his own again.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He said that if they got out more often they would not feel the need to be rude to each other," Aragorn replied, looking down into her face. "What they forget is that we only just returned from a journey, so they have no excuse."

"I think perhaps Asfaloth is right," she interjected softly, and both horses snorted, clearly in triumph. "I _do_ need to ride with you more than I have. I miss it so much."

" _That_ I think we can manage," he replied.

"Especially when the rest of us are not about to bother you," laughed Legolas from ahead. Aragorn and Arwen looked up in surprise, having been so lost in what they were doing. Enguina and Legolas stood just before them in the aisle grooming Lómë and Brethil. "We were waiting for you to return," Legolas continued. "Adar and Erumar left only a few moments ago; I cannot believe you did not cross paths with them."

"Good evening, both of you," Aragorn said with a smile. "Kind of you to wait for us."

Enguina half-expected Aragorn to apologize for not appearing for dinner, but there was no apology in their eyes or on their lips. "We were worried about you. You left the King's House unlocked but neither of you were about. You _have_ been gone all day."

"Indeed we have," he replied. "How was the day here in Minas Tirith? Were you forced to explain our absence to anyone?"

Legolas smiled sheepishly. "I think most of those who _would_ have asked are still sleeping off their drunkenness from the celebration of our wedding. Now, tomorrow on the other hand, they will be slithering all over the seventh level like the vipers they are—"

"Oh, well done," Arwen said softly. "Most excellent word choice."

"I leave Dintîr and Noldore out of this, of course."

"He has a talented tongue," laughed Enguina, "as we have said many times. But I agree the word is perfect to describe them, and no one would blame you for taking a day to hide. We do wish you _had_ mentioned something to someone though."

"We did," Aragorn said, raising his eyebrows. "We told Faramir."

"Though it can hardly be helped if he did not remember," Arwen said. "He was half-asleep at the time and is a new father."

"It did not come up, though," added Legolas, "I think _we_ might be to blame for that."

"You must have seen the babe today," Aragorn mentioned. "How was Éowyn this morning?"

"Still tired, as she will be for some time, I imagine, but her fever was gone and her pain was minimal thanks to whatever most excellent concoction you and Kinna made for her."

"When I have a child," Enguina added looking straight at Aragorn, "I want some of that and I _demand_ that both of you be present at the birth." She glanced to Arwen as well, who leaned into Aragorn's shoulder, looking as though she was about to rest her head upon him.

"Demand?" she quoted with a wry smile. "A bit pushy today."

"Just this evening," she sighed. "I was fine the rest of the day."

"And _that_ is only because I did not embarrass her very much at all today," Legolas added, giving her a wicked grin. "I am thinking of making up for it though; we are among very good friends now."

"And we have not been all day? Your father and Erumar?" Legolas stepped so close to her, crowding her space, that she leaned back into Lómë's shoulder.

"I cannot say things such as I want to say with my father about," he murmured and then kissed her quickly before stepping back. There was a blush on her cheeks already from his closeness, and he delighted in it before looking back at Aragorn and Arwen. "It is very easy to do when he is not."

"Oh, we can see that, Legolas," added Aragorn, opening Asfaloth's door and then Brego's. "Were you two heading out for a moonlit ride? The Anduin would be beautiful tonight. The moon will be high and bright in a few hours."

"I wonder, then, that you did not remain out yourselves," Legolas offered as the two of them went into their respective stalls.

"One cannot vanish for too long; the guardsmen at the lower gates would be in a panic." Aragorn and Arwen began untacking their horses, and Legolas and Enguina followed them to help. When they had entered the stall, Enguina laid her hand on Arwen's back.

"You are quiet tonight," she said softly. "Is there something the matter?"

"No," she replied. "Everything is fine; sometimes…it is difficult to come back to the world after a long time of quiet." She gave Enguina a little smile and lowered her voice. "I am both delighted and relieved that you are clearly so _happy_. It is such a blessing to my heart, to _both_ our hearts. Ever since I met you, I always dreamed there would be someone who would love and care for you, someone to share your life with you and you with him."

"Always?" she asked, suddenly with tears in her eyes. Arwen reached out and touched her face.

"Always, Enguina. So _many_ years…it was meant to be."

Enguina studied her a moment and her fingers tightened on her back. "It was every bit as beautiful, as _wonderful_ , as you said it was going to be," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "His power to make me feel so wanted, so loved, so completely desired…it was _overwhelming_. The way he touches me…the way he presses his lips to my skin…" Her voice drifted off, and she trembled once before looking terribly embarrassed. "Forgive me…I…"

"It is fine!" Arwen laughed suddenly. "I know that part of you wants to talk about it, and part of you wants to hold the memory of it inside you forever, just for the two of you."

"Yes," she said fervently agreeing. "Yes! How does Éowyn find it so easy to talk about this? _You_ do not—"

"No," Arwen replied, "I hold the memories inside and do not wish to share them aloud as Éowyn does…at least not in the same way."

"Like today?"

"I…" Arwen looked away from her steady gaze. "I can barely describe or explain what it is to feel what I felt today," she murmured as she wound her hands into Asfaloth's mane. "Please, let us…talk of something else."

She took Arwen's hands in her own. "Is everything all right?" she asked again worriedly. Arwen nodded, but Enguina knew very well that she was not being honest. Enguina was suddenly tired of being in this place. "Arwen…why is it that when I ask if you are all right, you always tell me so and I can never convince you to tell me anything? Yet, when our situations are reversed, you always pry it out of me."

"I pry better than you, I suppose." She slipped her hands from Enguina's.

"I think it is that you close down more easily than I do, and then you keep me away," Enguina stated, and Arwen felt her shoulders tense as she unbuckled the breastcollar over Asfaloth's shoulder, "sometimes as far as you can get. You used to do this in Lórien, before Aragorn came. Can I not help you, as you have helped me? I _can_ understand, you know. I can _listen_ when you are hurting. I can—"

"Oh, Enguina," she said so softly the other barely heard her, "there is nothing you can do, not for this, perhaps not ever. No, this is a weight upon my heart; the best you can do is pray."

"I trust Aragorn to care for you," she said, "because I know there is no easy solution, no place to hide from the pain. I am sorry that I did not think of you both last night when we were asking questions about Folengel, and I…understand how hard this is for you. I wish I could—"

"You cannot," she continued. "Please, Enguina, just…leave it." There was a long moment of silence between them, and Enguina inwardly sighed, frustrated.

"I hate it when you do this."

Listening to how sad her voice sounded, Arwen could not look at her as she un-cinched Asfaloth's saddle; her hands trembled and she stopped what she was doing and rested her cheek against the skin above the grey's shoulder. He turned his head back around to look at her and breathe on her arm gently. She stroked his nose. "I am sorry."

"I just wish you would talk to me," Enguina began, lifting the saddle easily from Asfaloth's back and turning to hang it outside the stall, " _really_ talk to me…at a time when I can be reasonable and not be yelling at you. When I know better, and I am not arguing that your pain is less than mine was."

Arwen knew that Enguina was trying to make her smile by making fun of herself, but she could not, not right now. The day had been full of bliss, but the depression was wearing on her since they had returned to the City. Aragorn knew; he felt it in her heart. He knew that though she wanted to brush it away, the next few days were going to be hard on them both. The morning had been a challenge, but when they had prayed and sat together on the shore of the Anduin, beneath their favorite sycamore, her heart had calmed and been more at peace. Then she and Aragorn had loved each other, and being with him always centered her in herself, in Ilúvatar. Arwen wished that the feeling she had with Aragorn she could carry with her like a lamp; on return to the City everything rained down like a flood. No matter how she wanted to chase it away, it was so _difficult_ to fight the pain at the loss of her son.

She was still standing there with her cheek pressed to Asfaloth's skin, the grey munching on hay, when Enguina returned. The older elf stepped up close to her and leaned against her back, hugging her shoulders. "You should let me in," she said gently in her ear, kissing the back of her head. "I could listen."

"I do not want to burden anyone else with this," she replied, her eyes closed. She knew that Enguina was piling on the darts to argue as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"Just as I did not want to burden you with my dreams?"

"Please…this is different."

"How, exactly?"

"Legolas could have helped you deal with them, to soothe you, to comfort you, to chase them away. There is no way to do that with this. The sorrow fills my heart so suddenly at times I…it is difficult to breathe. I have so many…worries and…no, Enguina…I cannot." _I have lost my child, a part of me, a part of Aragorn! Can you not see, Enguina? Can you not see how different the grief is?_

"Your burden is more terrible than mine?" Enguina asked, wondering if that was how Arwen truly saw it. Her arms tightened even more around her shoulders.

"Not more terrible… _different_. Please, Enguina—"

"Talk to me about how you are feeling," she urged gently. "Maybe I could—"

" _Please_."

In Arwen's tone there was a warning, but also a petition. She recognized it from the night before the wedding, when Erumar stood in the room with them and she had pushed her into the conversation about Haldir. She needed to take a step back before she hurt her friend—would Arwen not speak to her of her pain when she could? She would have to trust her. Enguina released her shoulders and she felt some of the tension lessen in Arwen's back against her breast.

"I need time, Enguina," she sighed softly, again, barely audible.

"I wish I could help you somehow," she repeated gently.

Arwen lifted her head and began untangling her fingers from Asfaloth's mane. "Just pray, Enguina. Pray for the pain to ease; pray that someday…" She could not finish, but Enguina knew what she was going to say.

"I have been, every time I think of you both, and I will persist. And I will have to continue to trust Aragorn with your sorrows, just as you began to trust Legolas to care for me now in my past hurt." She paled and swallowed with some difficulty. Perhaps drawing Arwen away from thoughts of the child would help her. "I had…two nightmares last night."

Arwen turned toward her, her face drawn tight with concern. "Two? Were they bad?"

"The second was…more difficult than the first. I thought when Legolas woke me the first time I would be all right, but there was no amount of holding or soft, encouraging words that kept him at bay. My response was…not good."

"Are you both all right?" she asked, touching Enguina's face when she looked away from her eyes. "Were either of you injured?"

"I was _entangled_ with Legolas," Enguina replied, looking suddenly dismayed, "and I fought him. I…bruised his chest." Her voice cut out when she whispered the words, thinking of how she had laid her hands against his smooth skin only hours before. "Arwen, tell me how I can stop hurting him. The same man I laid myself down with is the same man I woke up to, yet my mind was so lost in the dream that I could think of nothing but escape from Bragolaur's hands, his body. I was…it was so difficult to come back and feel Legolas again, not _him_. I was physically sick again; I nearly ruined our sheets and—"

"Did Legolas still hold you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Enguina told her, murmuring, "but I begged him not to. It was so much more difficult when we were unclothed, when he was pressed against my back. I felt…so _unclean_." She lifted her head and looked into Arwen's eyes. "I know you cannot know that feeling, to be touched by someone in such a filthy way, but…that is how I felt. I did not want him to touch me when I felt like that, when I felt as though I—"

"You were not pure for him again."

"Yes, even when I know that is not true." She sighed. "But Legolas…oh, _Arwen_ … _Legolas_! He knew what I needed—how does he always know? He always knows what to say and do…he took me into the bath and… _bathed_ me." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "I felt as though every bit of filth that was on me from that dream was washed away, that he took the touches of Bragolaur and made them vanish. It was…it was the most wonderful feeling. It was of freedom, of _peace_. H-he made me feel like I was whole again, like I _could_ be clean again."

"Perhaps every time you dream, Legolas _should_ bathe you, if it makes you feel better," Arwen offered seriously. "If the touch of his hands and the feel of soap and water destroy the memory of Bragolaur, then use them to rid yourself of him. Let his strength, his comfort, shield you from the chaos of that dream."

"Arwen," she asked, studying her face, "I know it is not often, but when Aragorn dreams, how do you comfort him? Are his dreams, his reactions, really as terrible as mine?"

"Sometimes," she replied softly, "but you are right. It has been many months now since Aragorn has dreamed of anything but our loss. I comfort him in much the same way Legolas has comforted you. At times, I hold him and that is enough. Sometimes, I have bathed him as Legolas did to you. Sometimes we walk in silence. Peace is what his heart craves more than anything else in those times. I am a shield for him against the darkness; I do not know what he did all these years he was alone." She seemed to shudder when she thought of him facing the dark unaided. "And once the dream has happened, Aragorn cannot find rest again that night. It seems, at least sometimes, that Legolas is able to help you find rest again."

"Sometimes," she agreed.

"Sometimes I what?" added Legolas, leaning his head over her shoulder and wrapping his arms about her chest, tugging her back from Arwen and into his body. Aragorn was leaning against the stall entrance, studying Arwen as he was chewing on a slice of apple—she could see that gaze easily.

Enguina rested her hands on Legolas's arms and raised her head to kiss his temple and cheek. "Are wonderful."

"Well," he said with surprise, "I was not expecting that."

"I was going to say irritating," she said with love in her eyes and a bit of mischief. He smiled and caught a quick kiss from her.

"How thoughtful of you. Aragorn and I were thinking you two were taking an awfully long time to remove Asfaloth's riding gear," he added as Arwen removed Asfaloth's bridle and set it over her own shoulder, rubbing all around his head and then scratching along it with her long nails. The grey made a sound in his throat that showed he was clearly enjoying the attention.

"Well, I had to annoy Arwen first," Enguina admitted.

"Annoy is a very strong word," she stated softly as she stepped around them to move to Aragorn's side.

"Challenge."

"Better."

"I see," interjected Legolas. "Aragorn was just saying moments ago how hungry he was. I was thinking we could head back to the King's House and sit about for a little while before turning in. Perhaps discuss our journey as well, as it is too late to have our roast." Arwen looked slightly guilty, but Legolas shook his head. "There is always tomorrow night."

"I think that is a wonderful idea," Enguina replied.

Aragorn straightened and offered Arwen a slice of the apple he had just cut with his knife. "Hungry?" She smiled at him and took it.

"Thank you." He slipped the bridle from her shoulder and set it on the rack in front of Asfaloth's stall. She took a bite of it. "This is delicious."

"Brego wanted your half, but I told him he had enough today," he added. "He was very…cross." She smiled and watched Brego thrust his head over his stall door towards them, leaning and extending his lips towards her as far as he could go to reach the apple. Seeing his stress and the disappointment in his eyes, she extended her hand and let him have it as Aragorn sighed. "Beloved, you are spoiling them."

"They deserve it," she added, taking another slice out of Aragorn's hand and handing it to Asfaloth who had turned about to munch hay directly in her ear, obviously working to get her attention. "Life would be dull indeed without them, and they have saved our lives too many times to count." There were two snorts of clear agreement as the two of their heads disappeared again. The last slice she took for herself, and then he slid the knife back into its sheath and took her hand.

"Well," Legolas said as he and Enguina joined them near the door, "shall we return Lómë and Brethil to their stalls and head for the House?"

"Yes," agreed Aragorn as he led Arwen out of the way so they could leave Asfaloth's stall. "We can sit on the porch and watch the moonrise."

"That has a very romantic ring to it," murmured Enguina as she took Lómë's halter and led him back into his stall. "I think that will be perfect."

Within a few moments, they were all on their way to the King's House.

* * *

"What do you mean you're leaving tomorrow for Dol Amroth? You just got married!" Gimli's voice was heard over everyone else's at the supper table that following evening. Legolas and Enguina sat cringing under his clear disappointment.

"It is only for a month, Gimli," stated Legolas. "We shall return to collect you before you know it." He gave the dwarf an encouraging smile.

"But you're traveling alone!" he cried. "Don't ya think a thousand things could go wrong in the Wilds? I mean, look at the mess that you got yourselves into _last_ time, and—"

"I would not exactly refer to Gondor as 'the Wilds,' Gimli," Aragorn replied, giving him a look down the table. "They are heading for Imrahil's country; they will be quite safe."

"Well, you should have _some_ protection with ya—"

"We will have each other," Enguina said, resting her hand on his arm, "and that will be enough. Please, do not worry for us. Everything is going to be wonderful."

"And then, hopefully, everyone will be ready for some home building in Ithilien."

"I am going to send messengers to the Greenwood tomorrow and have them spread the word," Thranduil said, leaning his elbows on the table. "That way, they will know your intentions and mine to remain to help you for a little while."

Supper had ended and the seven of them had remained to have some apple pie that Arwen had baked that day. Erumar smiled at Arwen across the table. "This is _delicious_. I have never had better, not even your mother's."

"That is so kind of you, Erumar. Thank you," Arwen replied, having a bite herself. "It might be a bit too sweet, I think."

"No, that only makes it _better_ ," added Legolas, popping another bite in his own mouth. "Sweet things are meant to be _enjoyed_." He gave a little grin. "Perhaps that is why I like Guin so much."

She reached over and pinched his forearm. " _Like?_ "

"Ouch," he said, wincing. "Love, I meant love."

"Better, but stop embarrassing me, Legolas." Aragorn grinned and it caught her attention. "What is it?" He leaned back in his chair.

"I was just reminded that we were supposed to make some fun of the two of you," he said, raising his eyebrows. Thranduil burst out laughing and Erumar's eyes widened.

" _Perfect_ , Elessar!" he stated. "How could we have forgotten?"

"No, no," said Enguina quite urgently, "he _meant_ to have forgotten all about it until _after_ we had gone to Dol—"

"Nonsense, Enguina!" Erumar told her. "It will be fun."

"Yes! Yes!" yelled Gimli. "Let me begin, shall I?"

"Oh, _please_ , Gimli," groaned Legolas. "Do not make it too awful, all right? Tell something _funny_ , not something that makes me want to stick my head in the ground and hide, not something that I could never live down, not something so terrible that I—"

"Stop _moaning_ ," Thranduil insisted, "you are acting like a child." He looked at Gimli as Erumar laughed and said, "Get on with it, dwarf."

"Right!" he chuckled. "One of my favorite tales of Legolas…well, here we are! The Fellowship had just set out on our journey from Rivendell, and Legolas and I…didn't _quite_ see eye to eye."

"Oh, you are going _there_ , Gimli?" asked Legolas incredulously.

"And why not? It's my story and I'm telling it!" he said gruffly. "One night in the Wilds holding our course along the Misty Mountains, we were camped on the edge of a forest with a valley below us. All of a sudden, a pack of vicious wolves came upon us. I remember the Hobbits were very frightened, having heard tales of such beasts but never seeing one themselves. Boromir and Aragorn protected them as best they could, and Legolas was firing arrows into the dark. Even though we weren't getting along, I _was_ impressed by the lad's sight in the dark. That was something I was a bit jealous of. A warg leapt out of the shadows toward my throat and Legolas shot it dead with one arrow straight through its eye into its brain.

"Well," Gimli said, sighing, "I was so shocked that he'd just saved my life that I couldn't warn him of the warg that had leapt over Boromir—even as tall as he was—and landed right beside him. Unable to bring his bow up, the warg knocked him down and the two of them rolled through the camp like a pair of scuffling children! Aragorn stabbed the warg several times as he chased them, but the blasted thing wouldn't die! And off the cliff they fell!"

"You fell from the _cliff_?" cried Enguina. "Gimli, this story is _not_ funny!"

"It's what happened _after_ that's funny!" said Gimli. "The two of them rolled into a thicket of spiny vines and there, Legolas impaled the warg onto the thorns. When Boromir finally hauled the elf back up, he was _covered_ with spines, nearly impaled himself! He had so many little spikes sticking out of everywhere that he looked like a seamstress's pincushion!" He laughed and Aragorn laughed, too. "Took us an _hour_ to pull them out!"

"You know, it _was_ very funny—what you looked like, I mean," Aragorn said, grinning at Legolas.

"Oh, as if you have never looked half-alive," he complained. "So I was a bit worse for wear. If I had not saved the dwarf, then he would not be here to make fun of me."

"It sounds as though it hurt," Erumar said, but she had a little smile on her face, picturing Legolas with a zillion stickers pointing out of him.

"My son," added Thranduil, "the _porcupine_." Enguina giggled.

"Honestly, Adar? There are only a thousand stories of you that I could tell that would curl Enguina's lovely—"

"But we are not speaking of me, are we, boy?" he said, raising his eyebrow. "No, we are not. Therefore, I should tell a story of you."

"Should there not be one about Enguina now?" asked Legolas, leaning his forehead against his hand. "Is that not what we—"

"No, I feel like telling a story," insisted Thranduil, and he looked at Enguina as he spoke. "When Legolas was a young man, and I mean _very_ young, his fondest memories are of scaring the wits out of his mother with creatures of all shapes and sizes." Legolas found himself staring at him, unbelieving Thranduil had chosen a story about his mother. He was _speaking_ of her? In front of _everyone_? "He would venture out into the Greenwood, bringing back little beetles, worms, spiders, small birds if he could catch them—"

" _Birds?_ " she asked, laughing. She turned to Legolas. "Whatever did you catch them _with_ , love?"

Legolas, still transfixed his father had mentioned his mother, sat perfectly quiet for a moment before he could come up with an answer. "My…my hands, actually."

"Legolas was quite quick," Thranduil said, a bit proudly. "To continue the story, his mother used to sit in this one particular place every day and wait for him to return to her with his treasures. He would always bring her back something that would delight her and then place something in her hand that he had stuffed in his pocket that might disturb her." Thranduil smiled, remembering. "The one day, I distinctly remember her telling me that she was going to do it no longer; she was no longer going to sit and wait for him to frighten her with creeping creatures." He chuckled. "That was after a particularly _nasty_ wolf spider Legolas had dropped on her. However, the next day she was back waiting for him again.

"Some days, Legolas would be gone for hours, always worrying her, as boys are wont to do. She wondered where he got to; some days he would come back filthy, other days soaking wet, and some days as handsome as when he had left her side. On this day in particular, Legolas brought home a bear."

"A bear?" Erumar repeated.

"Yes, a bear cub. You see, he found it in the woods asleep," Thranduil said, shaking his head as Legolas groaned, "and he thought it would make the perfect pet. However, as soon as he came through the bushes with it and happened along his mother, well…it woke up almost immediately with the panic in her voice. Soon it was yowling and screaming and making a clamor altogether evil that brought its mother right-quick."

"You _didn't,_ Legolas," laughed Gimli. "You brought a _bear_ into your father's kingdom?"

"I was a _child_ ," he protested defensively. "It did not look so bad while it was sleeping!"

"Yes, the bear came rampaging into the clearing, heading straight for the two of them. Legolas was terrified and dropped the cub while Glosvana dragged him to the nearest tree, shoving him up into it. Luckily for both of them, they were able to get far enough up the tree before the bear mauled either one of them. The guards were out in another moment to frighten the bears away, but Legolas…" Thranduil laughed, " _Legolas_ learned that day to be careful of what he brought home to surprise his mother."

"Though I should add," Legolas said, rolling his eyes, "that it was not the last time I was chased up a tree by something vicious and prowling."

"No," Aragorn agreed, "I think that happened to us once or twice. You were the better tree-climber though."

"Yes, so you always had far worse scratches than me, staying on the ground far longer than you ever should have," Legolas pointed out.

"That happened in—" Enguina cut off and blushed when Legolas looked fervently at her. "Oh, no, I must be remembering that wrong…"

"There is a story going untold there," Arwen said, leaning forward on the table. "Something else happened that you never told us?"

"Not really," Legolas added, shrugging innocently. "Moreover, sometimes what we do not know cannot hurt us, yes? It is better not to know."

"Shall I make an assumption then?" Aragorn questioned, leaning back in his chair. "I will guess that you and Enguina were riding out in Ithilien, somewhere on the other side of Osgiliath, and you ran into a pack of normal-sized wolves. They do not often hunt prey like you, but…they make exceptions if they are very hungry."

Legolas stared at him. "How could you know that?"

"Faramir has mentioned the pack several times," Arwen replied for him. "There have been several complaints about them, but most of the time they remain peaceable."

"Well, you might have mentioned a wolf pack in Ithilien."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows at the elf. " _You_ might have mentioned that you intended to go riding there. We thought you always stayed within Rammas Echor and the Pelennor."

"Ah, Ithilien in springtime!" said Gimli with a grin. "Such a lovely place of flowers and—"

"Shut it, dwarf," stated Legolas and Gimli laughed.

"All right," Erumar said, clapping her hands once, "time for a story about Enguina! One day, Enguina and I were sitting beneath this tree outside of Caras Galadon. I was singing while she was drawing." She looked confused for a moment. "I cannot remember where you were that day, Arwen."

"With grandmother," she said, a smirk on her face.

"No," moaned Enguina, horrified, "you are _not_ going to tell him _that_ —"

"I suppose," Erumar said, talking over her, "that it was really all _my_ fault, as a rather angry squirrel was annoyed that I was singing. The squirrel came suddenly down out of the tree and leapt onto Enguina, attacking her quite viciously. It bit her twice before she finally hit it directly in the face and flung it away from her. It scampered back up the tree and was gone as if nothing had ever happened."

"They really hurt, you know," Enguina said.

"And the funniest part," Arwen laughed, smiling at her, "was _Haldir's_ reaction to the story. When he heard the tale of Enguina being attacked, he walked before her for _days_ afterward warding off every small woodland creature in the most _serious_ of voices."

" _By Elbereth,_ " laughed Enguina suddenly, "I forgot how embarrassing, but how _hilarious_ that was. He would yell at the top of his voice, ' _Be gone, foul rabbit!_ '" She burst out laughing as well as everyone else, even Erumar, who would not have been able to finish that part of the story. Wiping her eyes, Enguina shook her head. "Within a few hours _everyone_ knew about it."

"That was _funny_ ," Erumar added, smiling.

"I have one," Arwen said, "while we are speaking of Lothlórien. One day, Enguina had this _amazingly_ brilliant scheme to climb down a mallorn from the top to the bottom and not use any of the stairs. It was to be a challenge to see which one of us could get to the bottom first—"

"Would it not have been easier to climb _up_?" asked Legolas.

"Then it would not have been much of a challenge," stated Enguina, blushing already.

"And Enguina knew that there was no way we would ever be allowed to do it when there were a hundred people around, so…we needed to do it in the dead of night," Arwen added, grinning. "The two of us began the _exceedingly_ long climb downward—"

"Perhaps a silly question," Thranduil interrupted, but he looked at Erumar, "where were you in all this, my dear?"

"I would _like_ to be able to say I knew nothing about it," she replied.

"You would _like_ to?" quoted Legolas with a smirk. "What does that mean?"

She grinned. "I was waiting at the bottom to be the judge of who arrived first."

Thranduil shook his head. "Ah, the foolishness of women."

"As if _we_ never do _anything_ foolish," interjected Aragorn.

"Can I tell the story now, please?" protested Arwen softly. "So we began our climb downward to Erumar. Having chosen a tree that had many vines, it was not as difficult as one might expect, but it was a serious challenge for the two of us and there were many times when I thought we were going to slip and fall or Enguina would plunge to her death."

"Me?" she asked indignantly. " _You_ were the one whose vine snapped and you fell five feet before you caught yourself again!"

"I am _not_ hearing this," Aragorn muttered. "Please tell me this was long before I met you."

"Long," she replied with a smile. "Moving on. Enguina was winning until that happened, so she thought it would be brilliant if she made an effort to do something similarly stupid, as though my falling was on purpose. So she let go for several feet, finally catching herself below me somewhere in the branches. When she hit, she twisted her left wrist and her right ankle, and then she found she could barely hold on any longer. We were, possibly, fifty or so meters from the ground at that point, and Enguina tried to hurry to get down not only first, but because she was then in pain of course. Her arm slipped from the tree and she fell; her foot caught on a vine and fell down through it where it pulled taught, snapping her ankle and causing her to hang upside-down and backwards from the tree."

Enguina flinched and laughed darkly. "That was a _painful_ experience, and it may have been the second moment of my life when I truly thought I was going to die." Legolas tightened his hand on hers.

"So what happened in the end?"

"Erumar began screaming, and _I_ began climbing down the tree as fast as I could, scrambling to get to her," Arwen said, "but there appeared Haldir and a small troop of the guard out of the darkness. They had been on their way on patrol and were passing by. When he looked up and saw his sister hanging upside-down from the vines of that mallorn, I do not think I have ever seen him angrier than he was in that moment. They were able to get Enguina down with the large number of the party, thank Ilúvatar. But she was injured, and Haldir gave the three of us such a stern talking-to I thought he would never speak to us again."

"And that is saying something, considering Erumar was not his wife then," added Enguina. "By heavens, he was _so_ angry, though to be honest I think I might have been in too much pain to pay any attention to his words."

"Suffice to say he was angry," Erumar said softly. It was the first thing she had said about Haldir, though as other people were speaking of him, it felt a bit easier to hear his name, to think of him; especially in the context of telling amusing stories. "You fought with him as two birds over the same worm."

Enguina laughed. "Yes, he was a wonderful brother," she said with a grin. "We loved each other, even if I was _awful_ to him sometimes."

"And throwing things at him, poking fun at him, teasing him," continued Arwen, laughing.

"Making him poisonous stew," listed Erumar, ticking things off on her fingers.

" _Erumar!_ " cried Enguina, glaring at her.

"Poisonous stew, hmm?" asked Legolas, intrigued. "Is this the famous stew story I am not supposed to hear?"

"Oh!" Erumar looked at Enguina sheepishly. "Forgive me, my mouth got carried away before my mind caught up."

"I will _not_ forgive you! I said you could _not_ tell that story!"

"I've got an idea!" called Gimli. "How about I tell Legolas's _least_ favorite story, and Erumar can tell yours?"

"No!" said Enguina crossing her arms. Legolas laughed, laying his hand on hers while looking at the dwarf.

"I know which one you are going to tell, and as long as you do not sing that _infernal_ song while telling it, feel free to tell it all the same."

"Very well!" Gimli laughed. "Legolas and I had journeyed to the Glittering Caves and were exploring in one of the deep recesses of the rock. Legolas wasn't excited about being underground like that, but he was willing to see what my home would be like, so he'd come down. While we were walking along, there was a _huge_ rockslide in one of the less-travelled and well-hidden tunnels. Legolas and I were caught right in the middle of it! We rushed to escape, but naturally, he got the worst of it as he had been behind me as we were running out and he'd shoved me forward out of the way. Of course he did! He was always trying to protect me."

"What would you rather me do?" sighed Legolas rolling his eyes.

"Nothing, nothing!" answered Gimli and then he continued the story. "Luckily, when I looked down, I could actually see him, but he was almost completely buried in heavy rocks. It took me nearly an hour to dig him out and as I worked, I sang a very old dwarvish work song that—"

"I _cannot_ stand," interrupted Legolas. "Therefore, he is _not_ going to sing it so that he does not irritate all of you with it. Take my word: when all you hear is the dwarf singing the same song for an hour, it is awful."

"Does that have something about _hi-ho_ in it?" asked Thranduil thoughtfully. "I seem to recall—"

"Adar, _must_ you?" asked Legolas, glaring at him in exasperation.

"I think I may have heard it before when my father was good friends with the dwarves. Forgive me for bringing it up."

"It's the very same!" laughed Gimli.

"I should tell Enguina's now," said Erumar with a little smile, and Enguina lowered her head to her arms on the table.

"I do not have to look at you while you tell it," she muttered, and Legolas laid a gentle hand on her back, even as he grinned.

"Get it out there, Erumar. Tell it."

"Obviously, things have changed in the last year, but years ago, Enguina could not cook at all. She never had a desire to learn until Arwen and I arrived in Lórien. So, I agreed to teach her some of the things I knew about cooking."

"Erumar makes excellent food," Arwen added softly.

Gimli raised his eyebrows. "Aye! Another great chef! Perhaps you'll cook for us some night!"

"Perhaps," she answered. "Enguina worked hard, as she does with everything she puts her mind to, but she did not have the talent for it—well at least that was what she said. At any rate, she complained that she was not good enough to learn, but she wanted to try her hand at _something_ and test it on someone. Her test subject became her brother. One night," Erumar continued with a smile while inwardly gathering herself to tell the tale, "H-Haldir had returned from his duties and she was cooking him a stew. Even though he wanted nothing to do with it, he agreed to sit and eat it.

"If it had been awful, Haldir may have noticed that it did not sit well, but the meal had actually been decent. The trouble with it was that for the next two days he was very, _very_ ill. Whatever had been in the stew gave him some sort of food illness, a bad reaction, and he was laid up for several days." Erumar gave Enguina a pitiful glance. "Needless to say, Enguina never tried her hand at cooking again."

"Ah, so _this_ is the reason I should not have asked you to cook, yes?" Legolas said with a bit of a smirk as he rubbed her back gently.

"Do not speak to me of that story," Enguina grumbled back.

"Well _I_ thought the stews she's made since she's been here have been delicious!" said Gimli, slapping his hand on the table. "I'll challenge _anyone_ who says otherwise!"

"Hold, Gimli," said Aragorn lifting a hand to calm him down, "I doubt Erumar is saying that she is not good at it. She has no intention of challenging you."

"Well good! I'd hate to challenge a lady."

Erumar laughed softly. "I would never challenge a dwarf to anything. I would lose terribly."

"More than likely," Thranduil said, teasing her, "you could out-sing and out-climb him at any moment."

"Which leads _me_ to a story of these two ridiculous friends," stated Aragorn. "As everyone here knows, Gimli and Legolas got on in the _worst_ way when they first met. They were rude to each other, and at times they very much were downright mean, slapping each other with tree branches or trying to trip one another—utterly ridiculous behavior."

"I remember Gandalf threatening to separate us at one point," Legolas added with a grin, and Enguina finally made to lift her head.

"Yes!" laughed Gimli. "Though the hobbits got quite a chortle out of our antics!"

"This one evening as I recall _quite_ clearly," Aragorn said, "I had the first watch. I saw that Legolas stayed awake a bit longer, roaming about the camp and I think we may have even spoke a bit that night but no matter, it was a quiet night. When it was time for Gimli's turn, he traded places with me and stuffed his pipe to go and smoke as he watched."

Gimli burst out laughing and Aragorn grinned. "HA! That is the funniest!"

"What?" asked Enguina, confused. Legolas shook his head.

"He is remembering what happened _next_ ," added the elf, and Aragorn chuckled.

"When Gimli sat down to smoke, his face turned green and he began to choke and sputter. I hurried over to see what had happened, but Gimli kept right on choking and _cursing_. I could not figure out what he was so upset about until I realized a distinct odor that should _never_ be in pipeweed. It could _only_ have been Legolas, _or_ he had recruited someone to do his dirty work for him, but he had replaced the dwarf's pipeweed with _buttercups and grass_. I tried to be reasonable at the time, but it was so funny that I had a difficult time maintaining my composure."

"That was _low_ , Legolas," laughed Enguina.

"Well, he deserved it," he said, shaking his head. "Though he tried to lunge at me and wring my scrawny little neck. I think that was how you put that? Hmm?"

"I remember I had to be sure to walk between them the following day," Aragorn said with a grin. "They wanted to hurt one another in the worst way."

"Buttercups and grass!" exclaimed Thranduil. "Excellent work, my boy."

Legolas bowed his head. "Thank you! It _was_ very funny. We did so many other terrible things to one another. I wish I could remember _half_ of them."

"I remember when you and Gimli came to visit the Greenwood," Thranduil suddenly laughed. "You and Tauriel were trying to get him to climb trees!"

Legolas burst out laughing again, as did everyone else at the picture that presented. "Yes, that _was_ hilariously funny!"

"No it wasn't!" shouted Gimli, and then had the humility to look slightly amused. "Well, maybe it was!"

"Wait, who—" Enguina tried to ask, but everyone kept going now, clearly on a roll.

"Or how about when you and Gimli had that drinking contest in Edoras?" chuckled Aragorn. "Gimli failed in such an astounding way."

"I didn't know elves weren't affected by drink like the rest of us!"

"What about that night on the wall at Helm's Deep?" Legolas pointed out, leaning on the table. "You remember when the Uruks first began appearing and Gimli asked me what was happening?" He turned to Enguina with a grin. "He was so short he could not see over the wall, so I offered to find him a box to stand on!"

She rolled her eyes. "You two are too much."

"Hilarious, in fact," stated Arwen with her own smile. "However did we live when you all were not around? We must have been ever so bored."

"As though you have all never done anything ridiculous," chastised Enguina. "Not _one_ of these stories tonight included something we did on our own. One of you was always there either helping us get _into_ trouble or helping us get out."

"No one could argue with that," replied Aragorn with another chuckle. "Can anyone think of another tale to tell of these two?"

"I could think of a few to tell about _you_ —" began Legolas as he leaned back in his chair, but Aragorn held up a hand.

"Another evening, I think. Perhaps before you travel to Ithilien and you stop in Minas Tirith to collect your father on the way home, you can gather together and tell silly stories of all of the mad things I have done. I am certain Arwen would enjoy hearing them."

"I am certain I would have a few to _add_ ," she murmured, and Enguina grinned at her down the table.

"I wish I had some very silly and embarrassing stories to tell myself about Legolas, but most of you _know_ those already or you were present for them."

"It is all right, Guin," Legolas said, tilting up her chin with a finger. "You will have the rest of my life to watch me do ridiculous things to make you laugh. Do not worry."

Arwen sighed and set her chin on her hands. "I think I am going to miss you both far too much."

"You will have us to entertain you," Thranduil offered. "At least for a little while."

"And we will not ever be _very_ far away," Legolas said, though he saw the look that Enguina and her shared down the table. He felt that way, too, but he wanted to encourage them all to think positively. It _would_ be difficult to say the farewell to their friends after being among them for so long. But…he wanted his own home with Enguina more than he did not want to say goodbye…and that was saying something quite important to his heart. It was time.


	58. FIN: Chapter 58

Author's Note: This is the last chapter. Thank you all for reading, for reviewing, for enjoying my story and my writing. Thank you for your critiques and your compliments. The next story, which I will eventually start posting, takes place three years after this one. I am SORRY for those of you who are looking forward to the birth of Eldarion that that story is not it; in fact, it includes the ongoing drama of their struggle to have a child. nd yes, I know that Ag & Ar would probably have a lot more people hanging around them all the time and guarding them as one of my reviewers stated, but honestly, I never really wanted to write in ALL those people or create characters that annoyingly hung around JUST for protection or ladies-in-waiting etc. So, yes! I agree! Artistic license, indeed!

I definitely WILL write a story about Eldarion's birth; I'll add it to my list of things I am VERY excited to write. :O) Thank you for following this story as long as you have to the end. Stay tuned for more adventures of the fabulous four! LOL Thanks again, readers!

* * *

"It was…a little easier today."

Aragorn stood out on the back porch of the King's House, leaning against the doorframe while he watched her, hands resting on the rail as she looked out into the night sky, the long dress she wore slowly moving around her bare feet in the light breeze. There was a warmth in the air tonight and that was good. Everyone had left them to themselves—Legolas and Enguina to ready for their journey, and Thranduil and Erumar to walk in the garden for a little while.

"It will be difficult for some time," he replied softly, having heard that slight stress in her voice when she said 'little.' "But it will get easier every day."

Aragorn knew what she meant. He had not felt the constant ache today when the two of them had spent the morning with Éowyn and Faramir, and by way of association, Folengel and Annî. If Arwen had been feeling it constantly, she had not shared it with him, so he could only hope that what he felt from her was real. If she was hiding from him…

She turned her chin so that she could see him and the stars and raised an eyebrow. "I expected to see you smoking."

He shrugged and walked slowly towards her, reaching out to rest his hands on her arms. "I only do that when you are not about. I do not like you breathing it in."

She laughed softly. "Yet _you_ smoke it. Your store of pipeweed barely diminishes, Aragorn. I suppose that means I am too often about…or that you are too busy."

"The latter," he replied. "I know you do like the scent, though."

"I do," she admitted, shaking her head. "I do not know why, though I suppose it might be because it was out of place in Rivendell, a different scent entirely than I was used to. As you say, you do not smoke very often." She took in the warmth of him through his hands and took a slight step back into it so that his chest was against her.

"You did seem better today," he said gently in her ear. "More at ease with him, touching him, holding him…looking at him."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "I think it helped yesterday to refocus myself and continue to remember what I have, what we share that I cannot live without." She did lay her head back against his shoulder then and put more pressure on his body; he wrapped his arms around her and held her, crossing them over her chest. Lifting her own hands, she placed them on his arms. Both of them were silent for several long minutes, and he rested his lips against her hair, breathing in the scent of her and closing his eyes. "Estel?" she whispered.

"What is it, beloved?"

She hesitated, and he could feel her body tighten in his arms. There was a very serious question coming, something that was yet weighing deeply on her heart. "I know you love me," she continued very softly. "I know that you would give your heart to protect me. I know that you have always loved me since the day we met, that we were made for each other, and that we were joined by Ilúvatar himself. I…I _know_ that."

"Yes, beloved," he agreed, pressing his lips to her hair with more pressure. "All of that is true."

"Please do not be angry with me," she begged, and he frowned, believing he might know where this was going.

"Arwen—"

"I know what you said that you feel," she said quickly, and her body tensed even more in his arms. "I know that you keep telling me that your love is strong and I _know_ it—I _believe_ your every word. I do. I just…sometimes I wonder if you have…really thought through how you feel."

He was silent, confused. "And what are you worried I have not thought through, beloved?" He felt her jaw move against his chin. "Stop biting your lips; you are going to break open that split you made yesterday."

"Do not poke fun at me."

"I am not, I assure you; _you_ should not change the subject," he pointed out. "What have I not thought through?" He asked again, tightening his arms on her.

"The…" she hesitated once more, and he suddenly knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Do not say one more word," he said firmly, his voice low. "I have thought about every—"

"The consequences of your choice if we are unable to have a child," she said quickly, and though he did not pull his face away from her hair, his arms were almost painfully tight around her now. He could feel in her words how terrified she was of him agreeing with her, even as she was the one asking him to think of it! "Think. _Think_ , Estel," she whispered, a wave of distress behind her voice. "Imagine what will happen to Gondor if the line of Kings ends with you. Who will be here, to follow in your footsteps, to care for these people as you have? Who will bring years of continued peace to the free peoples of Middle-Earth, the Reunited Kingdom? You are too good a man, too good a _King_ , to be the last of your great lineage. Without a child of your blood, the line of Kings _will_ break, and who will men look to for guidance, for strength? _Think_. How can you choose me when there is so much to lose?" The agony in her voice was plain, but she continued. " _Why_ should you? You have to…you _should_ make the right decisions for Gondor, and I—"

"Look at me," he said, turning her and gripping her arms in his hands, staring down into her face. She could not look away from his intense eyes; she had kindled a fire in them, and she knew whatever he was going to say was a result of his own pain at her words. "What is it that you would have me do, then?" She stared at him, unable to answer. The pain of any choice he would make would bring about the destruction of her heart; they both knew that to be true. "If you feel I need to travel this path with you, then I will dwell there if I must.

"There are few options. Separate myself from your love entirely and choose another wife…I laugh at this possibility as it would bring about my death, so let us move on. Choose another woman to have as my mistress, as the Stewards of old, as the asses of the Council were so _willing_ to help me with…but no, this would also kill me, and therefore is not an option either. Where then can I turn if I cannot rely on another woman to accomplish the feat of bearing me a child of my blood? Shall we then perhaps see a sorcerer, a witch, even an apothecary who might be able to find us some magic remedy for this struggle?"

He forced his hands to release her arms and cupped them about her face, rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones and wiping away the tears beneath her now closed eyes. " _Any_ of these choices are complete nonsense, all of them would take me away from you, the focus of my love, and change it to be some twisted desire instead. There _is_ no remedy for this trial that has been given us, only to walk by faith in Ilúvatar's strength alone. There is no other way; this is our test, and we must face it with faith. I have made a pledge to you, beloved, a vow that I will never break." He sighed, low and long, leaning forward to rest his brow to hers, letting his hands fall to her shoulders.

" _I know_ …" she whispered brokenly. " _But do you not want—?_ "

"Yes, I do," he answered. " _Yes, yes, yes I do_. I want to have children with you and see you become a mother as much as I want to be a father; oh _yes_ , Arwen, I do. But even if Ilúvatar withholds the pleasure of children with you from me until I lay myself down and leave this world, I could be content, my beloved." He suddenly shook his head. "No, that is wrong; being content is wrong. I would be _happy_ , overflowed with joy, that I have been able to spend my life loving you. The rest of my life would never be long enough."

"Sometimes," she murmured, feeling his breath caress her face, "I struggle to trust Ilúvatar with this ache in my chest. I continue to give it to him but the pain does not _leave_ me." She bent her head forward and off to the side of his, rubbing her cheek against his gently, feeling the scratchiness of his beard against her skin. "I want it to _go_. I want to stop _burdening_ you with it."

"Whatever burdens you _is_ my burden. You are my wife, the other half of my heart…the _better_ half."

He felt her lips curve into a smile. "The better half?"

"Unquestionably."

"Enguina wanted me to talk to her about my feelings last night," she added softly. "I could not, and I think it made her angry."

"Not angry," he disagreed. "She is frustrated, for you tend to hide from her whatever troubles you, and she cannot hide anything from you. This disturbs her; you are so good at hiding." She pressed her lips to his jaw, beneath his ear. "I can only hope that you continue _not_ hiding from me."

"I…do not know how," she admitted honestly, lowering her forehead to his shoulder. His arms surrounded her. "I need you too much; I am too selfish to hide from you."

"You, beloved? Selfish? Unthinkable."

"I _am_ selfish—selfish of your comfort, your love; some days I cannot even breathe without it." It was her turn to give a long sigh. "Oh, _Estel_ ," she whispered, "where would I be without your love? To think I nearly left Middle-Earth…for _what_? What life would that have been without you? No matter what this life brings, the trials we must face, there would be nothing, a _void_ , without you."

He leaned her gently back from him and rested his hand on her face beneath her chin as he had the Eve of Midsummer when she had appeared, brought by Legolas and her father to the celebration. "Please," he said to her slowly, softly, "do not ever doubt my love, my devotion, my desperate desire for you. There is _nothing_ in this life that matters more to me than your love, your heart. Ilúvatar has designed me to love you, and there is the truth of it."

She nodded. "I swear," she whispered, making the oath in her heart, "I will never doubt your word or question your love for me. I love you, Aragorn."

"Come and sit with me until the moon rises," he said softly, stroking her face. Then, taking her hand, he drew her to the chair that was near them. When he was seated, he took her down beside him and held her closely against his chest. The two of them stayed there for some time, Arwen's head upon his breast, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the music of her life.

* * *

Enguina watched as Legolas tugged the tunic up over his head and dropped it onto the chair. She giggled as he tossed himself down beside her, bouncing the mattress and dragging the sheet up over the two of them as he pulled her close to him. She laid a hand against his chest and then slipped it around his back, feeling his skin.

"And what brought this on tonight, this removal of your clothes?" she teased him softly, pressing her lips up underneath his chin.

"My desire to feel my skin against yours," he sighed, and he felt her nudge his leg with her toes and then crisscross her ankle between his. "Tonight was _fun_."

She rolled her eyes. "It was embarrassing."

"You laughed," he pointed out. "Come now, It was the perfect way to spend our last evening in Minas Tirith before we journey. Everyone enjoyed themselves."

"Erumar even told a story of Haldir," she added softly. "I was amazed."

Legolas was silent for just a moment before he said, "I could not believe my father told a story of my mother. He…never would have spoken of her willingly before."

 _Legolas, neither would you!_ Enguina stared at his throat, his collarbone, his chest as she thought how she could draw him out. If he could talk to her tonight…perhaps this was an opportunity she should not waste. "Was your mother a warrior, Legolas?"

"No," he replied. "She could defend herself if necessary, but no…she was nothing like you, with a desire to learn and to fight if possible. My father encouraged that initially so that he would be her sole protector. Some years after they were wed, they were attacked, and father nearly died trying to protect her; he has a…scar across his mid-section from being run through." Enguina flinched and her fingers gripped him more tightly. "She learned a little bit after that, too afraid that he was going to kill himself, but…she never became proficient. She could not fire a bow as well as you can, and she never learned to wield a sword. In the end there were too many to fight against; no amount of proficiency would have rescued her."

"Like you and Faramir ambushed in the woods."

"Exactly," he agreed. "Thank Ilúvatar for Aragorn and his gifts as a Healer or that would have meant our deaths as well."

Enguina was silent a moment, thinking about how she could draw him out. He was speaking now; perhaps she could encourage him to continue. "That was what happened to your mother? She was ambushed?"

"By orcs," he said softly. "Taken, tortured. It was…unspeakable…the things they had done to her. My father hunted them, tracked them through the mountains until he found where they had taken her. She should not have been out in the Greenwood that day; father had told her to stay inside the tunnels, but she _never_ listened. In that place, she and Adar never agreed and fought continuously. She would do what she wanted, and he was left scrambling about trying to protect or shield her." He sighed as he felt her presence in his mind like a caress. He had not thought to be telling her this story tonight, not after the laughter they had, but he was drawn to telling her. He might as well as not. "Thank you. Even _I_ spoke to her many times, trying to encourage her to stay near the tunnels, especially as I grew older and more involved with the guard, went out on patrols with Adar…but she was so stubborn. That made father even angrier with her.

"One morning, they had been heatedly arguing; I knew because I had walked in on father standing alone in the throne room, too irritated to speak. I drew him out after several tries, we spoke, and he of course knew he would apologize to her when she came back. It was hours later when she did not return for dinner that he grew worried. When he went outside to search for her, he discovered she was missing. Tracks led out into the words; definitely orcs." He paused, but she did not lift her head to look at him, knowing it might be easier to tell the tale without her eyes on him. "Adar, Fânrim, and I, along with a legion of guards, went after them. It took us weeks to track them; they covered their trails well, and we followed them all the way into Hithaeglir, the Misty Mountains, where we finally caught up with them." He paused again, but this time she knew it was to collect himself to finish the tale. She felt him swallow against her head and she drew him even closer to her.

"The fortress was an orc stronghold. He heard them first, of course he did; he had much keener senses in those days than I did. He ran forward without a word and burst through every door, every turn until he came to the place where she was…kept. I...I can still remember him screaming, the moment he saw her lying there, butchered on the ground. He fought not one orc in that room, from that moment on; he was on his knees beside her as the battle raged all around him. Adar had no eyes for anything—only her body, covered with blood, broken limbs angled every which way, by Elbereth _how_ they had tortured her, mutilated her. Guin…the only creatures worse than orcs were the Uruk-Hai, and thankfully they no longer exist. It was horror; no matter what we assumed we might have found, nothing could have ever prepared us for what we did.

"It haunted my dreams for years," he said softly, "the sight of my father, kneeling beside her, clutching her broken and lifeless body as he wept. All the suffering in my life combined could not equal what I saw in my father that day. I was filled with grief by my mother's death, but my father was broken by it. That is why I stayed as far away from him as I could for…nearly ten years. He could not look into my face, my eyes, and see my mother…knowing and thinking of the last words they had spoken with one another. He is haunted by them, has been for the last thousand years."

Enguina was grieved by his story, the great weight of everything they carried. "Legolas, I am so sorry," she said, smoothing her fingers against his hair. "I know this story brings you pain, but I am glad that you shared it with me. I am so sorry for what happened to your mother."

"When I look back, I only feel regret. I wish…part of me wishes that my father had _forced_ my mother to stay inside instead of letting her do what she wanted, though I suppose, that would not have been very loving. He was angry enough to; why did he not do it?" He shook his head. "If only he had demanded her to stay…"

"You think she would have listened?" she asked, shaking her head. "Legolas, if she was as stubborn as you say, than she would have refused him to his face." She lifted her head from beneath his chin and brushed her lips to it. "Do you blame your father for what happened?"

He sighed. "You asked me that two weeks ago. I…do not _think_ so. No, if there is anyone to blame, it is her. She loved nature, she loved to be part of the world and experience it. She brushed aside the evil, wanting to believe everything was good in its own way; this was so unlike my father who had experienced so much war and pain in his life. That was the reason, I think, they balanced one another so well. For four hundred years after her death, all of father's faults seemed to rise up and consume him, his temper, his anger, his overprotectiveness, his pride. He softened a bit when…well, when he half-adopted Tauriel when her parents were killed by orcs. She was so… _young_."

"Tauriel?" The name immediately came back to her from the dinner conversation. "The one who helped you teach Gimli to climb trees?"

"The very same."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Is there history there? With you…and her?"

He raised an eyebrow back at her. "Does it matter if there was?"

"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "You are mine now, and I am yours. Nothing like that matters. I was just…wondering who she was, wondering what a woman who you were in love with might be like."

He smiled at her and kissed her gently. "I will not say I never considered loving Tauriel once. I never loved her like that, what you are talking about. Guin, when I said I have never felt for another living being what I feel for you, I meant it. I _did_ consider Tauriel at one time, but…Father forbid it."

"Why?" she asked, looking horrified.

"She was family, Guin. She was…well, she was like my sister. I was long a man before she was even a _child_ , much less a woman, and Father was right when he said it would have been wrong. Moreover, she was headstrong and stubborn and was easily my best friend aside from Fânrim." He laughed. "Tauriel is a _warrior_. Being raised by my father alone, she, like him, would give her life to see the Greenwood protected."

"She is your best friend?"

"Well, she is my oldest friend," he admitted. "She knew me best at one time. Now, I am probably closer to Gimli and Aragorn."

"Why did she not come to the wedding? I would have loved to get to know her. I bet we would become very good friends."

"When we travel there some time, as I know you want to see it yourself, you will meet her. Perhaps you can swap silly stories about me—she knows far too many of those!" He grinned at her, kissing her nose and then her lips again. "Someone, the only one my father could really trust, had to stay and protect our home. I…was angry at first, but I should be more understanding with my father. After having lived in Eryn Lasgalen almost his entire existence, my father needs to protect it, shelter it. Perhaps we shall feel that way about Ithilien."

"Oh…perhaps," she said with a bit of a smile, "though I think we might need to come here often and abandon our home alone with two of our very, very good friends living a few days' ride from us."

"Mmm."

He kissed her again, several times in fact and then she broke off to look in his eyes again as she stroked his hair. "Legolas, can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I do not want to live with any regrets about the words I say or the things I do, especially with you," she told him. "I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, my Guin." He rubbed her back with a hand, tracing above the nightdress she wore and beneath her hair. Her fingers traced a long, thin scar along his lower back.

"Where did you get this?"

"A whip." He felt her flinch. "It was a _very_ long time ago."

"And this?" she asked, tracing a small scar on his ribcage, directly beneath his breast. "What is this from?"

"An orc arrow, on a journey with Aragorn."

"You have others," she said, letting her hand return to his back.

"Yes," he said, then he smiled, glancing down past her face to the front of the beautiful green dress she wore. "I meant to mention earlier, _long_ before you laid down here, that I think this is one of the loveliest things I have ever seen you wear."

"It was a gift from Éowyn. She told me it would please you and that I would not be wearing it for long because it would make you take me to our bed." She giggled at the words, and Legolas felt the heat from her face. "She is so silly!"

"No, she is _right_ ," he chuckled back, tracing the low cut of the back. "But I think perhaps tonight is not the best night to take advantage of this dress; we do have a bit of traveling to do tomorrow."

"What," she began, and he could hear the teasing lilt in her voice, "you have a set time to be out of this house and on the road? No one but us would know that we were leaving a bit later than intended." She began pressing kisses along his chin, her fingers beginning to trail slowly down his spine.

"Enguina," he whispered low. "My dove, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Seduce is such a strong word, dearest," she replied in a similar tone, rubbing her toes along his ankle. "How about entrance you with my charms and then tempt you until you give in?" She took her fingers down along his back until she reached his hip, resting her hand there. "Furthermore, I feel as though I have not touched you since you bathed me, and that was yesterday morning."

"Ah…I heard you telling Arwen about that," he murmured in reply.

"Did you?" she asked and he felt the warmth of her face once again. "I was only telling her because I…enjoyed it _so much_. And it made me feel as mended on the outside as you have made me feel on the inside."

"You can tell Arwen whatever you want. Only do not be surprised when I spend five minutes telling Aragorn how wonderful it is to make love to you and how _good_ I am at pleasing you."

" _Legolas_!"

"I only tease!" he chuckled again, reaching down to drag a hand over and beneath her arm to trace her ribs. "I said nothing of the kind; do not be so suspicious!" He pressed his lips to hers as they both laughed softly. She pressed against his hip and pushed his back onto the bed, leaning her upper body against him as they continued to kiss.

"You are _such_ a troll," she murmured and he grinned at her.

"But you love me in spite of all of that."

"Yes," she agreed, rubbing her nose against his and propping herself up on her elbow to let her fingers dance gently across his chest. He sighed at how good it felt.

"I love it when you touch me."

She could not help her smile, but her voice was more serious when she whispered to him. "Legolas, can I…will you let me love _you_ tonight? The way you have loved me these last two nights? I want you to feel what I have felt from your hands, your mouth—"

"Oh, I have, love," he said, desire for her shining in his eyes, "my connection with you, our thoughts entwined, I know what you have felt."

"Please," she said, pressing her lips to his jaw, and moving upward so she could move her lips along his skin to his ear. His eyes closed involuntarily as she found a place she knew very well would arouse him. _Mmm…Guin…_ She felt both of his hands move along her back, one up towards her neck, the other much lower. " _Please_ …"

"Love me as you desire, Guin," he breathed into her ear. "Love me until you have no strength left. Love me until you cannot think. Love me until your heart beats as one with mine. Love me until we fall asleep, your head against my chest, in one another's embrace. I am yours."

And she did.


End file.
